


Mr and Mrs Fawley

by orphan_account



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/M, Humour, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, bed sharing, fake married
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:19:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several months after solving the Sandbrook case, detectives Hardy and Miller are called in for a special undercover assignment. The catch? They have to pretend they're married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One

Almost three months after they solved the Sandbrook case, CS Jenkinson called detectives Hardy and Miller into her office to give them a special assignment.

‘I need you to go undercover,’ she told them. ‘We suspect a man called Peter Stoke is staying at a resort in Budmouth. High level dealer, leader of a fairly big ring, elusive, difficult to catch. We need you to get a trace on him, find out anything you can about his activities and where he’s planning on going next, as well as who he's speaking to and who he’s dealing with. We may be able to collapse the ring from the top down if we get enough evidence.’

Ellie had not done undercover work before. There wasn’t much call for it in a tiny Dorset town where everyone knew your name. The prospect excited her.

Until she heard the caveat.

‘So the two of you have to pretend to be married!’ Dirty Brian crowed when he saw them come out of Jenkinson’s office. He had heard Ellie’s loud protestations quite clearly through the thin walls. ‘Well. That shouldn’t be too much of stretch for you, should it?’

A few of the officers tittered. Ellie flung a thunderous look at him. ‘What the _hell_ is that supposed to mean?’

Brian backpedalled quickly. ‘Nothing. I just mean – well, after the work you two did on Sandbrook…’

Ellie narrowed her eyes. Brian began to sweat. Some of the officers were laughing through their hands, but they stopped abruptly when Ellie glared. Muttering something, she turned and stalked from the room. Hardy followed doubtfully at her heel.

‘Good luck,’ Brian called after him.

He did not reply.

*

 _I cannot believe this,_ Ellie thought.

It was high summer in the luxurious seaside town of Budmouth and the streets were thronging with people. Families and couples surged to and fro and banners fluttered overhead. Through this crowd, she and Hardy moved, just one more pair of anonymous holidaymakers.

‘Will you stop _fiddling_ with that,’ Ellie snapped.

‘Sorry,’ Hardy grunted. He let his hand fall from the gold ring on his finger. ‘It’s been so long since I wore one.’

‘Me too, but you don’t see me scratching at it like a madman.’

The ring on her own finger was silver. A large diamond – presumably fake, but real enough in appearance – was set into it, framed by a number of smaller jewels. She picked at it with her thumb, then shook her hand and tried to ignore it.

They made their way to the imposing, multi-storey resort where Stoke was meant to be staying. Ellie was pulling a large wheeled suitcase behind her, and it clacked stridently on the cobblestones. It got stuck on the kerbstone when she crossed the road, and when Hardy tried to help her lift it onto the footpath she snapped so viciously at him that he took half a step backwards and several people glanced at them.

Looking thunderous, Ellie grasped the suitcase with both hands and hauled it onto the footpath before continuing on.

‘You seem a little tense,’ he dared to comment.

‘Of course I’m tense. Jenkinson’s doing this to punish me. I know it.’

With some pragmatism, Hardy replied, ‘she’s doing it because we’re the best people for the job.’

‘What does that mean?’ Ellie demanded, pausing.

‘We’re the most experienced detectives she’s got,’ Hardy amended.

The answer satisfied her, but it was plain she was still stewing over something.

‘Hardly experienced,’ she muttered at last. ‘I’ve never been undercover before.’

‘But I have,’ Hardy said. ‘You’ll be fine.’ He could see she was still unhappy, so he added, ‘we’re working a case now, Miller. Just shut everything else out.’

‘Not Miller.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘It’s Sue Fawley, remember?’

‘And her husband, Jude Fawley,’ Hardy replied smoothly.

He extended his arm to her. Ellie hesitantly took it. Her hand rested on his forearm and the fake ring gleamed.

‘Bit weird, isn’t it?’ Ellie murmured. They were very close to the hotel entrance now.

He did not reply. He was hard beneath her fingers, and she could feel sinew and muscle straining under her grip. She knew he was nervous, but his face was an emotionless mask. If he could shut it out, so could she.

After all, he was right. They were working a case. Odd as the situation was, it was nothing but professional. She would be fine. She wouldn’t lose her cool.

‘You’re putting us _where?_ ’ Ellie demanded loudly of the receptionist.

Hardy suppressed a groan. Plainly Ellie had already forgotten the first rule of undercover work, which was not to draw undue attention to oneself.

The receptionist blinked. ‘The – the Honeymoon Suite, ma’am,’ she replied. ‘You requested it when you booked it.’

She turned the monitor around and showed her the booking details. Hardy put his hand on her shoulder.

‘It’s the right room, love,’ he told her, squeezing.

Ellie twitched. ‘Yes, I suppose I was mistaken,’ she said, grinding her teeth together. ‘But – erm…’ she lowered her voice and leaned forward. ‘Is there any way that we could get two beds in that room?’

‘In the Honeymoon Suite?’

‘Sue, darling,’ Hardy said warningly.

‘It’s just that – he’s a dreadful kicker,’ she persisted, ‘and if we share a bed I’ll be black and blue in the morning. You know how it is with husbands and their night terrors.’

She effected a fake laugh to try and offset the oddness of her request, but it only made things worse. The receptionist looked equally baffled and concerned. Hardy gave her shoulder another squeeze and she gave up.

‘Never mind, it’s fine. Honeymoon Suite it is.’ She snatched the swipecard from the receptionist.

The receptionist rattled off some information for them. ‘Breakfast is served from eight to ten-thirty daily,’ she told them. ‘The pool, gym and other amenities are open from five-thirty am to midnight. Room service is twenty-four hours.’

‘Did I read somewhere that there’ll be a ball in a few days?’ Hardy asked casually.

‘Correct. Every Saturday night in Summer we conduct our famous ballroom dinners. There’ll be cocktails served and dancing afterwards. All hotel guests are invited. But there is a dress code.’ She looked meaningfully at Ellie’s rather lacklustre outfit.

‘Count us in,’ Hardy replied. ‘Been a long time since we went dancing, hasn’t it, love?’

Ellie scowled. ‘You’ve never taken me dancing.’

‘Oh, it hasn’t been _that_ long.’

Under the receptionist’s quizzical eye, Hardy and Ellie headed towards the lift. Hardy put his arm around her shoulder for good measure. The lift descended, and they disappeared inside it.

As soon as the doors closed, Ellie threw him off violently.

‘What the _hell_ was that?’ they demanded simultaneously. They faced off, fuming, then Hardy spoke over her:

‘We’ve not been here two minutes and you’ve already come close to blowing our cover!’

‘Well – well what’s all that?’ she protested. ‘All those – hands! And calling me love!’

‘We’re married,’ he reminded her drily. ‘I won’t touch you again if you ask me not to, but if you want this to work you will need to put _some_ effort in.’

Ellie sensed she was on the losing side of the argument. She grew quiet.

‘I’m sorry this is awkward,’ Hardy said. ‘But we’re working right now, and we need to do this right. The sooner we find him, the sooner we’ll be out, so just put up with it until then.’

She frowned. She disliked the way he was speaking to her. It reminded her of when they’d first started working together, when he had been all experience and she had been all innocence. She liked to think they were equals now, and he certainly treated her as such, but now that they were thrown back into a situation where he had all the experience and she had none, those old tensions were coming back.

Well. She’d show him. She refused to act like some wide-eyed, naïve, inexperienced junior cop. She’d show him just how deep undercover she could go.

The lift dinged and the doors opened smoothly onto the highest floor. Ellie and Hardy came to their room and opened it with the electronic door key.

They entered the Honeymoon Suite to be greeted by an enormous King Size bed. The door swung shut behind them and they stared at it for a moment.

‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ Hardy grunted.

‘Oh, don’t be stupid,’ Ellie snapped. ‘You can use the couch.’

She pointed at a tiny, uncomfortable couch that did not appear to be designed for practical use. Hardy looked morosely at it.

Ellie looked past the bed to the windows beyond. ‘Blimey, this is a big hotel room!’ she said. ‘And look at that view! You can see everything in Budmouth from here.’

She pressed herself eagerly against the glass.

‘Jenkinson said that Stoke always gets the biggest rooms when he stays here,’ Hardy mused as he unzipped the suitcase. ‘If he’s anywhere, he’ll be on this floor.’

Ellie turned around. ‘He could even be behind these walls,’ she said. She rapped lightly on them. ‘Do you think they’re soundproof?’

He went red. ‘It’s the Honeymoon Suite,’ he muttered.

It took her a moment to catch his meaning, then her own cheeks deepened in shade. ‘Oh – right,’ she said, emitting a high-pitched laugh. ‘Oh – I – I just thought that – you know, we might be able to listen in on him, but… I guess, we can’t hear him, and he can’t hear us. Or anything we do. Or don’t do. Good thing.’

Her cheeks still flushed, she retreated to the bathroom, as she often did in times of stress. ‘Bloody hell,’ she said as she entered.

Hardy joined her. The bathroom was white and sparkling and expansive. A huge, luxurious spa took up half the space.

‘I know we’re working,’ Ellie said, ‘but I am using that spa.’ She looked around the sumptuous hotel room with a sense of despair. ‘This is the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in and I’m stuck with you.’

‘Thanks very much.’

‘You know what I mean.’

Hardy finished unpacking their things. ‘We should go for a walk around the town. Try to get our bearings a bit more and scope out possible places Stoke would go. After that, we’ll come back to the hotel and look around the amenities.’ He threw a bright sundress at Ellie. ‘Put that on,’ he said. ‘It’ll help us blend in with the Budmouth crowd.’

Ellie unfolded the dress and her heart sank. ‘I swear Jenkinson is doing this on purpose,’ she muttered as she went into the bathroom to get changed.

*

 _I’ve been alone too long,_ Ellie thought.

She was promenading down the main street of Budmouth arm in arm with Alec Hardy, accoutred in a flouncy sundress that made her look like a wedding cake. A large camera hung on a strap around her neck. Her beau was kitted out in loafers, shorts, a polo shirt, and had a sweater tied around his neck.

They looked ridiculous.

And it was strangely enjoyable.

She never lost sight of their objective, of course, and the two of them were always scanning their surroundings and meticulously filing away details they could use, but their efforts to appear as an ordinary couple left room for playfulness. The camera was prepped in case they saw Stoke or any of his associates, but while they were lacking a target, she amused herself by taking pictures of Hardy when he was neither ready nor willing. They were pretending to be tourists, after all. It was natural for a wife to take embarrassing pictures of her husband in front of harbours and monuments.

In turn, Hardy was obliged to be playful and affectionate. As they walked around Budmouth, he insisted on locking arms with her or holding her hand. When they stood together on the historic bridge overlooking the river, taking in the view, his arm settled absently on her waist. Sitting in a café, he thought nothing of reaching across to brush a crumb from her mouth. He never kissed her – not that she hoped he would – but otherwise he was easy and familiar with her, adopting the mannerisms of an affectionate but absent-minded husband with alarming alacrity.

If she was being completely honest, she'd been afraid of this. Because being with him like this was... _affecting_ her. 

They wandered through the square, where an impressive rose garden took pride of place amongst the public amenities and a war memorial. They came to an archway covered in climbing pink roses. Upon seeing Ellie glance wistfully at a bloom high above her head, Hardy reached up and bent the stem to her face. She inhaled the aroma, then with a mischievous grin Hardy shoved her and she faceplanted the rose.

‘You bastard!’ she said incredulously. She chased him through the park, sneezing pollen everywhere. When she caught him, he was laughing.

Oh yes, she'd been afraid of this.

There had always been such a physical gulf, such a distance between them. No matter how close they got emotionally, they never really touched. The most intimate thing they’d ever done was shake hands. But it was safer that way, really. Safer for him to be her grumpy boss, or just some guy she worked with. Because...

Hardy unexpectedly slipped his arm around her waist. He leaned into her and his lips brushed the curve of her ear. She shuddered all over, her eyes wide.

'I think I just saw Stoke,' he whispered. 'He went into that building. Stay close to me.'

Having snapped into detective mode, Hardy hunted ahead with a keen eye. After a few minutes, he ascertained the lead was a dead-end and he reverted back to affectionate husband. His ability to switch from one to the other was unnerving, and it left Ellie feeling stupid and embarrassed over the effect his touch had on her.

 _This is just a job,_ she reminded herself sternly. _It's not real. The love, the affection, the playfulness - none of it's real._

To Hardy, this was all business. He touched her, but it was because he was doing a job. He was loving, but only to solve the case. And here she was, stewing in pheromones, honest-to-God _quivering_ at the slightest brush of his fingers.

She wasn’t sure who she hated more – herself or Hardy.

Mostly, she blamed Jenkinson, and cursed the CS’s name to hell and back.

After spending the day getting their bearings in Budmouth, Hardy felt satisfied that they knew the area well enough. They rehearsed the different street names to each other then, hand-in-hand, he conducted her back to the hotel.

They ended up next to the outdoor pool. It was Hardy’s opinion that on such a fine day, Stoke might come here. If that were the case, it would be the perfect opportunity to look through unattended personal belongings or snap a photo.

‘It’s a slim chance, but worth taking,’ he said mildly.

They claimed some deck chairs and Ellie stripped off. She had shrewdly packed a black one-piece suit that covered her middle. As a supposedly childless woman, a glimpse of her caesarean scar was likely to raise eyebrows.

She slopped some sunscreen on. ‘Here, darling, let me get your back,’ she heard a voice say behind her, then suddenly Hardy was rubbing sunscreen across the exposed skin of her neck and shoulderblades.

‘Thank you,’ she said, falsely bright. Quietly, she ground her teeth together. Part of her wanted to kill him; another, traitorous part imagined what it would feel like if those strong, masculine hands were massaging other parts of her.

 _No. No, no, no,_ she told herself. _I refuse to think about that._

He finished her off. Then he removed his shirt and tossed it aside, revealing a hairy brown torso, elegantly muscled and covered with a multitude of scars, the product of a lifetime as a police officer. Ellie’s cheeks grew hot.

_Nope. No, definitely not thinking about it._

Hardy’s fear of the water prevented him from swimming. He slung himself across a deck chair and started reading a book. It would take a careful observer indeed to notice that his eyes were focused on a point just above the book, and that he was carefully skimming his surroundings instead.

For form’s sake, Ellie got into the water. She did a few laps up and down, then grew still and floated serenely for a while, her eyes closed.

She knew this was a job, and she was under no delusion that this was serious business, but… it was _nice._ The last time she’d been on holiday was over a year ago, when she’d gone to Florida with her boys and… her husband. It made her morose to think of Florida, and it was even more pathetic to think that this was the nicest thing that had happened to her since then. She couldn’t help wishing that her boys were here too. They’d love walking around the town and splashing with her in the pool while Alec –

Her eyes snapped open and she sputtered water. Since when had Hardy been a part of her fantasies? Was she seriously imagining how nice it would be if her boys were here with her _and_ Hardy?

Oh God, she'd been afraid of this...

Coughing, she waded upright and glanced over at the man in question. He had evidently been trying to get her attention for some time, for he was looking intently at her, and when she made eye contact he motioned her over.

Composing herself, Ellie slicked back her wet hair and climbed the steps out of the pool. Hardy watched her carefully and handed her a towel when she grew close.

‘I need you to stay here for a minute,’ he muttered. ‘I think I might have a lead.’

‘What lead?’

‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ he asked loudly, standing.

He prompted her subtly. ‘Oh – ta. A juice,’ she replied.

‘Be right back,’ he said.

There was a small hotel bar set up near the outdoor pool. He disappeared out of view for a while. Ellie towelled her hair dry, then lay the towel on the deck chair and stretched out. She closed her eyes.

A shadow fell over her and she opened them again. Hardy was staring at her, two drinks clutched in his hand. She saw him swallow slightly, then he straightened his shoulders and handed one of the drinks to her. He scooted onto the edge of the deck chair with her, and their bare skin brushed.

‘I was talking to the bartender,’ he said quietly as he took a sip, ‘managed to get him talking about some of his regulars. He mentioned a man fitting Stoke’s description.’

‘And?’

‘He’s gone out today, but he comes here early most afternoons. Often brings different guests with him. Sometimes they go up to his hotel room together.’ As he settled further into the chair his skin pressed more closely to hers. He took a deep draught. ‘This young man appeared to be under the impression that Stoke was hiring escorts. He found it quite amusing.’

‘But we know they’re probably clients,’ Ellie murmured. She was still cool and damp from the water. His skin was so hot in comparison, like bronze metal warmed by the sun.

‘Yeah.’

He lingered for a second longer, then smoothly withdrew to his own chair. ‘I think we should have an early night,’ he declared. ‘We had such a long trip this morning – we’ll need to rest up for a big day tomorrow.’

Ellie agreed demurely.

About half an hour later they headed back up to their hotel room. Hardy lazily draped his arm over her shoulder and carried her bag for her. Once they were inside, he snapped into detective mode and unceremoniously dropped both her and the bag so that she stumbled slightly.

‘Right. We know almost for certain that Stoke’s on this floor. The peephole of our room has a view of the elevator. I say we stake it out and wait for Stoke to come past. We'll get a good view of him and whomever he might have with him. We’ll also know for sure which room is his.’

‘Does this mean it’s just a matter of playing the waiting game?’ Ellie asked as Hardy picked up the high stool from the kitchenette area and placed it by the door.

‘Yep.’

He seated himself on the stool. It was just tall enough to allow him to comfortably sit and look through the peephole.

‘So you’re gonna stay there all night?’ Ellie asked.

‘If that’s what it takes.’

He continued to stare through the peephole. He was completely rigid, already absorbed in his task. Ellie shrugged and quickly got changed into pyjamas, a hotel dressing gown and slippers. She got the matching robe for Hardy and handed it to him.

‘What’s this?’ he asked.

‘If you’re going to be sitting there all night, you might as well get comfy.’

He looked dubious.

‘Come on.’ She dumped them in his lap. ‘Those tiny shorts can’t be good for your circulation.’

‘They’re not,’ he sighed, accepting defeat. He took the robe and slippers and Miller took his place on the chair. She looked out through the peephole and saw nothing but carpet and elevator doors.

Hardy began to get changed behind her. She stared determinedly straight ahead. ‘I have no idea why they packed those clothes for us,’ she said loudly. ‘We looked ridiculous.’

‘We looked like everyone else here,’ he said mildly.

‘Everyone at the station _knows_ I hate dresses,’ she went on. ‘I swear they packed that monstrosity to spite me.’

‘You won’t like what they’ve packed for the ballroom dinner, then,’ he cautioned.

‘Christ, I don’t even want to think about that. Maybe Stoke won't go,' she said hopefully. 'We don't know for certain he will.'

'Given his profile, he's likely to,' Hardy replied. 'He loves showing off his wealth at public events. He'd never miss a chance to wear his best suit and dine on the best food. And that's good news for us. His guard will be down. We’ll get something solid on him for sure.’

He appeared beside her with a sigh, clad in the fluffy robe and with the slippers on. ‘Better?’ she asked, sliding off the seat.

He grunted. ‘I’d feel better in my suit.’

 He would have looked more comfortable in his suit, too, Ellie thought. His rigid, upright sentry position clashed with the casual attire.

She left Hardy to it and called her boys. Tom answered and excitedly asked her how the mission was going. She had to remind him that she wasn’t a spy, then after chatting with him about school for a while she asked to speak to Fred.

‘Oy! Hardy!’ Ellie yelled.

He grunted.

‘Fred says hello!’

‘Hi Fred.’

‘Uncle Alec says hello back,’ Ellie told Fred, to the boy’s delight.

She ended the phone call by reiterating how much she loved both of them, then said goodbye. This done, she made another important phone call.

‘Yeah. Yeah, with extra cheese. And for dessert, I want the sticky date pudding and the mousse. And…’

‘What are you up to?’ Hardy demanded, still glued to his seat.

‘I’m ordering room service,’ Ellie yelled. ‘Will you eat one dessert or two?’

‘None.’

‘Make it three,’ Ellie said into the phone. ‘I’ll get the mud cake as well. Yeah. That’s all. Okay, see you soon. Bye.’

She hung up and wandered over to Hardy, looking satisfied.

‘Room service?’ he asked dryly.

‘Well, we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here,’ she pointed out. ‘I’m not going hungry when chocolate mud cake is only a phone call away. Besides, the police are paying for all this.’

‘We’re not supposed to use the money on superfluities.’

‘Dinner isn’t a “superfluity,”’ she said, making quotation marks in the air.

‘No, but three desserts is.'

‘Those arseholes made me wear a dress and shack up with you. They're paying for it one way or another.'

The corner of Hardy’s mouth twitched and she swore she saw the beginnings of a smile.

‘But the real reason I ordered room service,’ she went on casually, ‘is because if we’ve got dishes, we can use that as an excuse to open the door and “accidentally” bump into Stoke when we see him come out of the elevator.’

That got his attention. He threw a quick glance at her. ‘You think we should make contact?'

‘Stalking from a distance is all well and good, but if you want to get information out of someone, the best way is to talk to them. If we befriend him, talk to him as one wealthy couple to another wealthy man, we'll be able to learn a lot more. It won't be as weird if we accidentally bump into him at breakfast or by the pool. Talking, making friends… I think it will work a lot better than creeping at a distance.’

‘I think you’re right,’ he said after a while. ‘Good idea, Miller.'

She beamed.

Room service arrived not long after. The waiter delivered the trays, then wheeled the trolley back out.

‘Having an early night I see,’ he commented.

‘Well, we had such a big day,’ Ellie said, waving her hand. ‘We thought it’d be best to stay in.’

‘Well, when you’re staying in the Honeymoon Suite, why even bother leaving?’ the waiter winked cheekily.

‘Oh, believe me, if it were up to me, he wouldn’t see daylight for the next week,’ Ellie said, slapping Hardy’s arse enthusiastically. He jumped.

‘If I were in his shoes, you wouldn't need to convince _me_ of that,’ the waiter said with a flirtatious tilt of his head.

Ellie laughed. Hardy frowned and placed his arm protectively around Ellie’s shoulder. ‘Careful,’ he said darkly. ‘That’s my wife you’re speaking to. I’m not sure I appreciate what you’re insinuating.’

‘We’re just joking, darling,’ Ellie said.

He grunted and loomed forward so the waiter hastily backed through the door. 'Thanks then,’ Hardy said abruptly, and he shut the door in the waiter’s face.

A few tense moments passed. Hardy squinted through the peephole until the waiter retreated to the elevator. 'Creep,' he muttered.

‘Do you have to be so rude?’ Ellie hissed.

‘He was flirting with you right in front of me!’

‘He was fishing for a tip you ninny,’ she snapped. 'For God's sake.'

She uncovered the trays with a series of strident clatters and roughly passed one of the meals to Hardy. Nursing his dinner on his lap, Hardy resumed his watch. He complained about the taste and texture of his meal to such an extent that Ellie had to throw peas at him to get him to shut up.

‘God, you’re such a fussy eater,’ she sighed. ‘It’s a fucking piece of asparagus. Eat it.'

He picked up the asparagus and weighed it between his thumb and forefinger. It waved limply. ‘I don’t think it’s cooked properly.’

‘Just give it here,’ she said impatiently, and ate the asparagus with a threatening crunch. ‘Perfectly fine.’

‘Miller, you think Nando's counts as a fine dining.’

‘I’m going to tip this plate over your head in a second.’

They finished up the main courses and Ellie got stuck into her three desserts.

‘Mmm, try the mousse!’ she exclaimed. She dug out a spoonful and waved it at his face.

‘No thank you,’ he said.

‘Just try a bit.’

‘I don’t want to.’

‘One bite! It’s not going to kill you.’

She shoved the spoon forward. He dodged, and mousse smeared across his cheek.

‘Oh – sorry,’ she said, wiping it away with her fingers. ‘It’s just spreading, hang on…’

She took out her hanky, spat on it and leaned forward.

‘Miller,’ he said sternly, holding up a hand and wiping his cheek with the other. ‘Please.’

She slumped back in her seat next to him. He remained staring out through the peephole.

She finished eating and left the plates by the door, ready for Hardy to use if Stoke showed up. She wandered around the hotel room for a bit, variously trying to keep herself amused.

'I'm getting cabin fever in here,' she complained.

'It's barely been three hours.'

She rummaged through some drawers in the bathroom and came out with a disposable shower cap on her head. She bounced up and down on the bed for a bit and sighed.

'I forgot how boring holidays are without kids.'

'This isn't a holiday.'

'Hotel rooms, I mean. I'm used to kids ripping up the furnishings and trying to steal anything that isn't bolted down.'

She turned on the television.

‘Ooh, Harrrdy, look at the selection they’ve got!’ she exclaimed as she flicked through the channels. She came to a menu screen. ‘There’s even a pre-paid option. We can watch _Finding Nemo!_ Ohhh, Fred would’ve loved this.'

She blanched suddenly.

‘Ooh – er. Oh dear. There’s an option to resume a film. One in the “Adult Entertainment” section. Must be from the previous occupants. Makes sense, I suppose, since this is the honeymoon suite. But really, you’d think it would be more likely that a horny single guy would -”

A chorus of moans suddenly filled the air.

‘Oh Jesus,’ Ellie said.

‘Miller,’ Hardy called, dragging out the last syllable of her name. ‘What’s happening?’

_‘Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!’_

‘Oh Jesus!’

_‘Oh God, yes! Yes!’_

‘Mil _lahr_ ,’ he said, and the way he uttered the word seemed to bring out every last dreg of his Scottish ancestry.

‘I hit it accidentally! I didn’t mean to! I can’t -’

_‘Oh yes! Oh God, yes! Right there! Don’t stop!’_

‘MILLER!’

‘It’s not turning off!’ she shrieked, mashing every button she could find. ‘I – oh my God, that is a big penis!’

_‘You animal! You -’_

Hardy dragged himself away from his perch and was at her side in four long strides. While she fumbled desperately with the remote, he bent over and pulled the plug from the socket. The power died and the TV shut off.

Shell-shocked, Ellie sat on the bed while Hardy stomped back to his place on the chair.

‘Right,’ she said once she’d recovered. ‘So I guess we’re not watching television then.’

Too embarrassed to stay in the same room as him, Ellie retreated to the bathroom. ‘M’gonna have a bath!’ she yelled, then closed the door. She pressed her forehead to the door and closed her eyes.

‘Fucking hell,’ she muttered to herself.

Righting herself with a sigh, she turned the taps on full blast and filled the spa. She added as much bubble soap as was humanly possible, turned on the jets and slipped out of her robe and into the spa, trying to lose herself in steam and foam and hot water.

But her thoughts, inevitably, turned back to Hardy. She couldn’t help but be impressed by how unflappable he was. When he was on a case, he was like a blinkered horse. He saw nothing but the end goal. He barely seemed human sometimes; he was like a machine with one purpose. Solve the case. Solve the case. Do whatever it takes to solve the case.

In this case, “whatever it takes” meant “pretend Miller is your wife.” And that’s what he was doing. And he was nothing but professional about it, while she…

She realised her hand had drifted down to the space between her thighs. She let it linger there and lay back, biting her lip.

_It’s been so long. It’s just been so long._

All the casual touches and hand-holding and pet names, getting a taste of all the intimacy she had been missing for so long… he could be so kind, so playful.

And then he would switch back to his usual grumpy arsehole detective self, like none of it had happened.

She withdrew her hand with a sudden splash and flung it out onto the edge of the spa. Water dripped onto the tiles and she gritted her teeth. She refused to let this happen. She wouldn’t let herself be gulled by this farcical intimacy. If he could turn it on and shut it off just as easily, so could she. If he could be nothing but professional, so could she. If he would do anything to solve this case, then god damn it she would too.

Some time later she emerged from the tub. Hardy was still on his perch, and as far as she could tell he hadn’t moved. He shifted subtly when he heard her come out, and his hands, which were bunched into fists on his thighs, stiffly unclenched.

‘Good spa?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ She folded her arms and swayed back and forth for a bit. ‘Sorry about before,’ she said awkwardly. ‘About the whole – erm…’

‘It’s all right, Miller. It was an accident.’

‘Miller,’ she echoed. ‘You should probably stop calling me that.’

‘Oh. Sorry. Ellie, then.’

She blinked. ‘No, I didn’t mean – I meant you have to get used to calling me Sue!’

‘Oh. Oh right, yes, of course.'

‘But you can,’ she amended quickly.

‘What?’

‘You can call me Ellie. The whole surname thing’s a bit daft now, really.’

‘Right.’

There was a pause.

‘So am I calling you Ellie or Sue?’ Hardy asked.

‘Um – Sue.'

‘Sue. Okay. Suppose it’s a good idea,’ he said. ‘Last thing we want is for “Miller” or “Hardy” to slip out. Jenkinson thinks Stoke might have planted spies in the building. Extra protection. We’ll have to make sure we don’t give anything away.’

‘No fear of that. You’ve been very thorough with this whole charade.’

‘It’s to keep us safe, Mil – Sue,’ he amended. ‘Stoke could be capable of anything.’

 _Nothing but professional,_ she reminded herself gloomily. He had not looked at her once throughout the exchange, but kept his gaze locked on the elevator through the peephole.

She made two cups of tea with the tiny hotel kettle. Sipping one of them, she smacked her lips and carried the second over to Hardy.

‘It’s green tea,’ she said as she offered it to him.

‘Thanks love,’ he murmured, taking it from her.

Ellie blinked. ‘Did you just call me love?’ she asked.

He glanced at her. Horror crept over his countenance. ‘You asked me to call you Sue!’

‘I said call me Sue, not love!’

‘I know, but I call Sue – you – my wife – I call you love, so it just slipped out!’

‘All right! I understand. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it.’

He turned his gaze back to the peephole. Ellie sat next to him. They sipped their tea together.

‘Is that what you used to call Tess?’ Ellie asked.

‘Hmm?’

‘Did you call Tess “love”? I’ve heard you say that to her, accidentally.’

He grunted and nodded. ‘Love, angel, darling… I called her lots of things. ’

‘So the way you treat me – Sue, I mean – is that how you used to treat your wife?’

‘Pretty much.’

She considered it for a moment. ‘You must have been a good husband.’

He grunted.

‘Do you mind if I ask… what happened between you? Between you and Tess?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘I know – I’m sorry. But I want to understand. I know all the awful stuff that happened with the pendant and Sandbrook, but - what happened before that? Was your marriage on the rocks before this happened? It can’t have come out of nowhere.’

She caught a flash of deep sadness in his eyes. ‘Things had been a little strained, I suppose,' he said quietly. 'A little stale. Nothing too serious, I thought. We’d been doing things together to “strengthen our marriage” as Tess said. You know… evening classes. Dancing. Cooking. So we could spend time together outside of work and home. I hated it, but I loved her, so I went along with it.'

'So... when you found out -'

'Total shock.'

'You never suspected?'

'No.'

'I'm sorry. That must have been hard.' After what had happened with herself and Joe, she could sympathise. 'But I can’t understand…’ she paused. ‘If you loved Tess and you treated her the way you treated me today… why did she do what she did? If she was just unhappy, fair enough. But why didn't she just _talk_ to you about it? Why cheat? It doesn't make any sense to me.'

He looked at her sadly. ‘Not everyone’s like you, Ellie.’

He tried to resume his watch, but he was too troubled now. Passing his hands over his face, he closed his eyes. ‘I need to call Daisy,’ he said, and slumped forward. ‘Do you mind?’

‘No. No, go,’ Ellie said.

‘Thank you.’

She replaced him on the chair. Due to her diminished height, the position was a little more awkward for her and she had to strain to see. Hardy walked into the bathroom with his phone and closed the door.

She had enough experience with questioning people to know when they were hiding something. She knew there was something about the divorce that Hardy wasn't telling her. She wondered what it was.

After a minute she faintly heard the muffled sounds of his voice coming from the bathroom. She listened in and a smile softened her face.

He was so gentle when he spoke to Daisy. He laughed and even cracked jokes. She’d faintly wondered if the persona of loving husband he put on had been a complete fabrication, but his treatment of Daisy seemed to indicate that, if she really were his partner, he would be just as considerate, playful and doting as he had been today.

She squirmed in her seat. At that moment, the elevator light came on and the doors opened.

A well-groomed, moustachioed man in his mid-forties strode out. She recognised him as the elusive Stoke and her eyes widened.

‘Oh, bloody hell, it would be now,’ she groaned to herself. ‘Shit. Fuck. Bollocks!’

She leapt off the chair. Too afraid to call for Hardy lest Stoke hear her through the door, Ellie rapidly dragged the chair away, picked up the tray of dishes and flung the door open.

‘Oh!’ she exclaimed as she nearly crashed into Stoke. ‘Oh, goodness, I'm sorry! I nearly knocked you out there, didn’t I?’

She laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. Stoke, who had paused mid-step, looked at her with some surprise.

‘Gosh, this looks bad, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘Me with all these empty dishes. But I promise you, I’m not the only one who ate them.’ She set the tray on the floor. ‘I can recommend the mud cake if you’re thinking of getting something for yourself. But steer clear of anything with asparagus in it. They’ve no idea how to cook it here.’

Stoke looked cautious, but somewhat intrigued by the curly-haired spectre before him. ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said, turning so that his body faced her. ‘Even in the restaurant downstairs I’m always hard-pressed to find any vegetables that are cooked halfway decent.’

‘You’ve been to the restaurant, then?’ Ellie said, mentally cheering that she’d managed to engage him in conversation. ‘Oh, Jude and I – my husband, that is – we were contemplating whether we should go there. This is our first time here. Our first night, even.’

‘Really? I’m something of a veteran, myself. The restaurant’s not too bad, as long as you stick to seafood. It’s about the only thing they can get right.’

'I'll have to remember that,' she said warmly. She extended a hand. 'I'm Sue. Sue Fawley.'

Stoke regarded her for a moment and delicately took her hand. 'Peter Stoke,' he replied. 'Are you in Budmouth long?'

'A week,' she replied. 'It's nice to finally meet someone else here! Everyone I've spoken to seems so snobby.'

'I'm glad to be the exception.'

He smiled at her, and she knew she'd won him over.

 _I'd like to see Mr. Stick-Up-His-Arse Professional Detective do this,_ Ellie thought.

So it was that ten minutes later, when Hardy opened the bathroom door and came inside, he found Ellie laying smugly on the bed, waiting for him.

'El - Sue?' he said. 'You're not at the door.'

'Oh, you didn't hear me? Well, I just bumped into one Mr. Peter Stoke. Had a bit of a chat with him.'

He blinked. 'He came past... while I...?'

'While you were talking to Daisy, yes. Through the powers of speech I found out four very interesting things. Number one, he's been in Budmouth for at least two weeks, twice as long as Jenkinson thought. Number two, he's definitely attending the ballroom dinner on Saturday. Number three, he's staying in apartment 1204 down the end of the hall. And number four, he hates asparagus too.'

'Oh Miller,' Hardy said, looking at her with sudden, fierce adoration. 'You are _incredible._ '

'I know,' she said.

He drilled her for every detail. The breakthrough swept him into a good mood and he chattered excitedly. They planned for the next day as they brushed their teeth together and readied for bed. She couldn't help but be infected by his enthusiasm.

She really did enjoy working with him, all things considered. 

Ellie went to the bed and peeled back the covers. Still discussing what they would do tomorrow, Hardy went to the other side and, seemingly without thinking, peeled back the covers as well.

'Ahem,' Ellie said.

'What?' Hardy said. He recollected himself suddenly and jumped back from the bed. 'Oh - sorry. Wasn't thinking.'

He dragged his heels over to the tiny couch and folded himself onto it while Ellie demurely took her robe off and got into bed. She was wearing the least sexy pyjamas in the world - baggy and bright blue, with tiny yellow Tweety birds on them.

She glanced over at Hardy. He arranged a little blanket and tried to get comfortable. The couch was far too small for him, and his long legs stuck off the end. 

'Night,' she said, and flicked the light off.

Hardy grunted. In the dark, she could hear him squirming and struggling to get comfortable. It seemed to be a fruitless mission.

At length, a deep sigh escaped him.

'Oh, all _right_!' Ellie said, turning the light back on. 'We'll share the bed. You can go on top of the covers.'

He jumped up and tried not to look too eager. 'You're sure?' he asked. 'If you'd rather I didn't...'

'The guilt will keep me awake if you don't.'

He clambered on the bed next to her, dressed in a grey t-shirt and pyjama pants, and arranged his blanket.

'Good?' she asked. He nodded and she turned the light off.

They lay side by side for a little bit. Ellie became painfully aware of the warmth and weight of his body. Her cheeks glowed with heat. Then he made the tiniest of movements, moved infinitesimally closer to her and she leapt out of the bed as if she'd been scalded. The light came back on.

'What is it?' Hardy asked.

Ellie hunted around the room. She came back with an armful of pillows and began arranging them on the bed. Hardy drooped.

'Is this really necessary?' 

'Yes,' she replied.

She patted the pillows and stood back to admire her work. A veritable Great Wall of China now separated the two halves of the bed. Satisfied, she got in and the room turned dark once more.

'Well then,' Hardy said, his voice slightly muffled behind the wall of pillows. 'Goodnight Mrs Fawley.'

'Goodnight, Mr Fawley,' Ellie replied.

 _Nothing but professional,_ she told herself determinedly, and she closed her eyes.


	2. Day Two

Hardy and Ellie were sitting together at the breakfast buffet with several empty plates spread around them. They were on their seventh cup of tea each, and Hardy was pretending to read a newspaper with painstaking slowness while Ellie played Candy Crush on her phone.

‘Maybe he’s not coming to breakfast,’ Ellie suggested. She put her phone away. ‘We can’t stay here much longer without it seeming weird.’

Hardy folded up the newspaper with a rattle. ‘Yeah. We’d better go.’

They departed with nods and thank yous to the staff and proceeded to Plan B.

Loitering outside reception, Ellie surreptitiously called in a complaint on her mobile. When the receptionist put up a sign and quickly went to investigate, Hardy slipped behind the counter to look up the account for Stoke's room on the computer. Ellie, meanwhile, kept watch.

Seeing the receptionist coming back, Ellie stomped her foot and coughed loudly. Hardy smoothly withdrew, took her arm and conducted her to the elevator.

‘Christ, I’m sweating bullets,’ Ellie muttered, tugging on her t-shirt collar. ‘I’m so used to walking in and asking for things. This sneaky stuff is not my cup of tea.’

‘You’ll get used to it,’ he assured her.

‘What did you find?’

‘I took a picture of the screen on my phone,’ Hardy said. ‘Stoke arrived 15 days ago and he’s staying here indefinitely. He’s paying for it all on one credit card, and there were a lot of extra charges for the restaurant and the minibar on there.’

‘He must be loaded if he’s game enough to touch the minibar,’ Ellie commented.

‘I’ll send the picture through to Jenkinson. See if she can do anything with it.’

He did just that. Then the two of them got changed and headed out into Budmouth.

‘If I were a filthy stinking-rich drug dealer in charge of a massive ring that covers most of the West Country, where would I go?’ Ellie mused.

‘Wherever I could show off my money,’ Hardy said. ‘Stoke does love ostentation.’

He held out his hand to her and Ellie threaded her fingers through his almost without thinking. Her forehead crinkled.

‘Well,’ she said slowly. ‘Budmouth’s a seaside town, right? So what’s the best way to show off wealth in a seaside town?’

He glanced at her. ‘A ship?’

‘A yacht,’ she amended. ‘People in Broadchurch are always getting pissy about rich people taking up berthing space in the harbour with their big plastic tubs. A few years ago we were having problems with a load of yachts getting vandalised. Turns out old Jim, the Master of the sailing club, was doing it. He couldn’t afford the rent anymore because a bunch of millionaires muscled him out of his space. And then, to add insult to injury, they didn’t even sail them. They just held parties on them for a few weeks in the summer. “Bastards don’t even know a clove hitch from a reef knot,”’ Ellie quoted with a giggle. ‘Oh. Poor Jim. His little protest cost him a lot of money. He had to sell his boats to pay for the compensation in the end. I sort of wish I hadn’t solved that case.’

Slightly impatient with her nautical tangent, Hardy said. ‘so you’re saying we should look for a yacht that might belong to him?’

‘Worth a shot,’ Ellie said.

They ended up at the harbour. Hundreds of vessels, from tiny dinghies with outboard motors to enormous, luxury cabin cruisers were moored there. A spider web of jetties and piers branched into every direction, granting access to the different boats. The masts nodded as the vessels bobbed to and fro, while flags and triangular burgees fluttered in the breeze.

Hardy took a deep breath as he stepped onto the small pier. He looked profoundly uncomfortable on such a narrow strip, and glanced at the water on either side of him.

A herring gull swooped low over their heads and screamed. Hardy jumped and looked around in fright. Ellie could see he was fighting down a panic attack.

‘Jude Fawley’s not afraid of the water,’ she reminded him.

The sound of the lapping waves was still making him twitch. She squeezed his hand as hard as she could.

‘We’re working a case,’ she said. ‘Just shut everything else out.'

He took a deep breath and squeezed back. ‘M’fine,’ he said. ‘I’m okay.’

He straightened his shoulders and they walked together along the pier as if nothing had happened, looking for any sign of Stoke or his associates, or anything on the yachts themselves that could conceivably be linked to him. Ellie chattered incessantly in the meantime, explaining what the different types of flags meant and naming the knots and lines for him.

‘My father was a sailor,’ she said happily, and she genuinely looked like she was in her element out on these docks. ‘He spent most of his life at sea.’ She added reflectively, ‘he died there, too.’

Hardy glanced sharply at her. They were alone, and apart from a single fisherman some distance away there was not a soul in sight. Wetting his lips, he said, ‘I’m sorry. What happened?'

‘Storm meets ocean meets man. The old story. I was sixteen when it happened.’ She looked up at the flags fluttering from the mast of a beautiful old wooden schooner. ‘They say there’s a curse on the Miller family. Anyone who goes to sea professionally drowns. It’s been said since John Loveday Miller died at the Battle of Trafalgar. But, stubborn Broadchurch natives that we are, we kept going out there. My uncle, my grandfather, my cousin – all of them were seafarers, and all of them drowned.’

‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. He paused. ‘So Miller is your maiden name?’

‘You think I’d keep Joe’s name? No. It was my father’s name. He only had two girls – myself and Lucy. I wanted to keep his name alive, so when I married I asked Joe to take mine.’

The flag curled and uncurled, dancing in the wind. The furled sails twitched in their ropey prisons, as though yearning to stretch out to meet the ocean breeze.

‘It’s why I stayed in Broadchurch, even after everything that happened. It’s why I love the ocean so much. It’s my history. My heritage. I feel close to my father – my family – when I’m there.’

Without warning she grasped one of the wooden schooner’s halyards. Using the line to steady herself she sprang lightly onto the deck.

‘Sue!’ Hardy called in alarm. ‘Sue, you’re not allowed to be on there!’

Ellie smiled, revelling in the gentle sway of the deck. ‘All’s ship-shape!’ she declared. ‘We’ve smooth water and a fine breeze. Hoist sails, hearties – let’s bring her to the wind.’

She headed aft and put her hands on the tiller. With some relish, she heaved it back and forth, going from hard-a-port to hard-a-starboard before bringing her back to mid-ship.

‘Sue,’ Hardy called, a touch more sternly. ‘Sue, come on. It’s not funny anymore.’

Ellie smiled. Grasping the shrouds, she stepped onto the gunwale. Hardy held out his hand. She took it and he eased her back onto the pier.

‘It’s a beautiful ship,’ she remarked. ‘My dad loved these old-fashioned wooden boats.’

‘Don’t do that again,’ Hardy said suddenly, and he drew her closer to him, so that his forehead was nearly touching hers. His tone was not one of reprimand, but fear. ‘Don’t.'

Her eyes widened, then softened. She recalled with perfect clarity every word he had spoken about finding Pippa Gillespie. _'I got pulled under... water dripping off her clothes, all down me... water rots the body...'_

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I know you don’t like the water.’

They walked on a little way. Perhaps feeling guilty that he had smothered her enthusiasm, Hardy asked, ‘so what’s a jib? As in, “I like the cut of your jib?”’

‘It’s the triangular sail that attaches to the forward mast. You used to be able to tell a ship’s country of origin by its shape or make.’

‘Ah. And which side is port and which is starboard?’

‘Do you really want to know or are you just humouring me?’

‘Well, I’m interested now.’

She couldn’t tell if he was asking as Jude or asking as himself. She answered him anyway. While she was wittering and holding his hand, Hardy listened with indulgent patience, and the sound of the water no longer seemed to trouble him.

*

It took them all morning, but they finally catalogued all of the boats. None of them could obviously be linked to Stoke, and nor did they catch sight of the man himself.

They went back to the outdoor pool, hoping they might see him there. Hardy subtly asked the bartender if he’d caught sight of the mystery man and his escorts, and was given a reply in the negative. Hardy and Ellie agreed to wait it out.

Hardy sunned himself on the deck chair. Ellie, noticing that massage services were on offer, decided she had a duty to try them out, just to make sure no-one suspected the two of them of anything untoward.

‘What kind of oil would you like me to use?’ the masseur asked. ‘I have sandalwood, rosehip or lavender.’

‘Lavender,’ she declared, dropping her towel. ‘Frost me like a cake.’

The masseur nodded, and in no time she was face down on the table while he worked the knots from her shoulders.

‘You’re carrying a lot of tension in your back,’ the masseur remarked.

 _Tell me something I don’t know,_ Ellie thought. ‘It’s been a stressful time for me.’

‘Anything in particular?’

 _Where the fuck do I even start?_ ‘Oh, just work, really. All builds up on you.’

The masseur dug his elbow into her back and she groaned. ‘There’s a great big knot here. I’m not sure if I can get it out. How hard would you like me to go?

‘As hard as you need.’

‘All right,’ the masseur said, and he let her have it.

Ellie screamed.

‘There we go,’ he said. ‘That’s got it. Better now?’

Ellie was limp. She'd become putty in his hands. She groaned again, and the masseur looked pleased with himself as he continued his work.

She closed her eyes. The kneading and rubbing of his masculine hands summoned the image of Hardy’s face. Almost purring, she imagined that Hardy was the one massaging her.

‘Would you like me to do your glutes?’

Not understanding the question, and too absorbed in her daydream, Ellie mumbled, drooling slightly. The masseur took this as a yes.

All of a sudden, in her daydream, Alec Hardy was massaging her arse.

Ellie’s eyes flew open and she snapped upright, propping herself on her elbows and clenching every muscle in her body. Flushed, embarrassed, guilty, she had to end the massage then and there.

‘Feeling relaxed?’ Hardy asked when she emerged.

‘No,’ said Ellie irritably. _And it’s all your fault._

She hadn’t been with him for five minutes when Hardy’s keen eyes caught sight of Stoke and another man walking towards the hotel. He nudged Ellie and gestured. She scrabbled for her camera.

As discreetly as possible, Ellie snapped some photographs of Stoke and his guest.

‘Is he coming to the pool?’ Ellie squinted.

‘No… I don’t think he is.’ There was a pause. ‘No, he’s definitely heading inside. Come on. We need to know what they’re saying.’

They hastily gathered their things and hurried towards the hotel. To their surprise, Stoke did not go through the front entrance. He headed around the back – to the staff entrance.

First checking that no-one was around, Stoke ushered his friend inside. Hardy very carefully looked around, then he led the way, keeping Ellie behind him with a protective hand on her wrist.

‘Stay close. Follow my lead,’ he said.

Stoke had led them into a laundry, of all places. Baskets full of dirty towels and closets full of fresh linen were everywhere. The smell of washing powder was pervasive. A number of dryers and industrial-size washing machines were rumbling away, drowning out any ambient sound

It was here that Stoke paused to hold his conversation.

With no fear of the shutter sound being heard, Ellie took another, clearer picture of the two. But frustratingly, thanks to the machines they could not hear what the men were saying.

‘We have to get closer,’ she declared.

‘Ellie, _no,_ ’ he hissed. ‘It’s not safe.’

But Ellie would not be stopped. The sooner they had the evidence they needed, the sooner she would be out of this situation, and the sooner she could put all of this behind her.

She crept closer and closer again. Hardy clutched at her, trying to stop her, but she forged ahead. With a suppressed groan, he followed her.

Hidden by the wall behind a large basket, she was just close enough to hear. A few stray words brushed her ears.

And then it was over. Stoke shook the man’s hand, and they both went to depart.

‘Oh fuck,’ Ellie said. It had been too sudden – there was no way they could get out now without being seen. ‘Oh Jes -’

Then a strong arm was around her middle, and she was all but hauled into a nearby storage closet. Hardy only just managed to get them both bundled inside before Stoke came past.

The closet was tiny. There was barely enough room for both of them; Hardy had her crushed against a wall of towels. As imminent terror faded, something else took its place.

Hardy was so... big. And warm. And...

She began to squirm.

‘Keep still,’ he hissed.

‘Back up a bit!’

‘Shh!’

She continued to fight. He caught her between his legs like a vice, wrapped one arm firmly around her waist, covered her mouth with the other hand and pressed her hard against the wall.

And he held her there.

_Jesus Christ he’s strong._

He had her well and truly pinned. Three months with a working heart had evidently done him some good _._

Hardy had his head cocked to the side, listening intently. It was difficult to make out any sound thanks to the machines. While Ellie sweated, he was fixated on ensuring they were in no danger.

Ellie silently berated herself. _Idiot. Fucking idiot. For God’s sake, stop it!_

It was dark in the closet; the only light came from the slit under the door. Ellie’s eyes widened as a shadow darkened that slit.

Hardy saw it too. Someone was outside.

The door was flung open. Ellie and Hardy tumbled out in a sweaty tangle of limbs, shrieking.

‘What in God’s name?’ a twentysomething housekeeper cried in dismay.

There was no sign of Stoke anywhere. He was gone. It was just them, and this poor young woman. Realising how it must look, since the both of them were still only half-clothed from their stint at the pool, Ellie embraced the most obvious explanation.

‘Oop! Caught with my finger in the pie!’ Ellie exclaimed, and she laughed and squeezed Hardy’s arse. ‘God, I’m so sorry. This looks terrible, doesn’t it?’

‘We couldn’t quite make it back to our hotel room,’ Hardy reciprocated, slipping his arm around Ellie’s waist and brushing his lips against her brow. ‘You won’t tell anyone, will you?’

The housekeeper put her hands on her hips. ‘You know, you can get kicked out for this sort of thing.’

‘We didn’t mean any harm – honest! It’s just – well, it’s our first holiday in ages. Tensions are high.’

‘We can make amends,’ Hardy said. He pulled out his wallet and handed her twenty pounds. ‘Here – for any damage done.’

The housekeeper, who was plainly working for minimum wage, lit up at the sight of the money. ‘Well,’ she said, pocketing it. ‘I suppose that’s fine. Just don’t do it again.'

‘We won’t!’ Ellie promised. They seized their things, then Ellie grabbed Hardy’s hand and hauled him off to their hotel room.

‘What the _fuck_ was that?’ Hardy demanded once they were safely in their room. He threw the bags on the bed and glared at her. ‘For God’s sake Miller!’

‘Don’t have a go at me! If I hadn’t pretended we were snogging in the cupboard, she would’ve kicked us out!’

‘I don’t mean that, I mean why did you get close to Stoke when I told you not to?’

‘I wanted to know what he would say!’

He almost exploded. ‘We have no idea what he’s capable of! Don’t you _ever_ do anything like that again, do you understand?’

Taken aback, Ellie was starting to feel like a scolded child. ‘I’m sorry!’ She was so brimming with conflicted feelings she was almost crying. ‘I’m sorry, all right? I fucked up! I shouldn’t have gone up there, but I just wanted to solve this stupid thing!’

Hardy was breathing hard and his teeth were bared. Slowly, regret tinged his countenance. ‘I understand how you feel,' he said in a measured voice. 'But… Miller…’ he took a deep breath. ‘Your safety is more important than this case. Never risk blowing your cover. Never endanger yourself for a lead, okay?’

‘Bit rich coming from you,’ she retorted.

He folded his arms and gave her an admonishing look. Almost a minute of awkward silence followed.

But in the end, Hardy let it go.

‘So did you hear anything, then?’ he asked, his arms falling to his sides.

‘Um… yeah,’ Ellie replied. ‘Few words. He mentioned a deal. Something about "the goods." And I got a name… a woman’s name. It was something like Marianne or Susanne… there was definitely an Anne in it.’

‘Goods,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Jenkinson thinks he might be dealing directly. The 99% pure stuff.’

‘So you think he might have a stash somewhere?’

‘It’s entirely possible.’

‘Where? His hotel room? He has been bringing people up there.’

‘Hmm. Maybe. It doesn’t seem secure enough, though.’

‘He’d have a room safe like we do,’ Ellie pointed out.

‘It’s worth investigating,’ Hardy admitted. ‘If we could find him with the drugs actually in his possession – well, that’s an open and shut case. We wouldn’t need to trace him to the next destination, we could get him in court now.’

It was definitely worth thinking about; it would guarantee this thing would be over once and for all.

*

They had it on fairly good authority that Stoke liked to dine at the hotel restaurant, so Ellie and Hardy dressed up and went downstairs for dinner. They were seated by the window, where they could distantly make out the wink of the sea. A vase of red roses was set on the table and a candle burned between them.

Ellie was still in a foul mood from before. While Hardy perused the menu, she stabbed her knife against the table, flipped it upside down, stabbed the handle against the table, then turned it again and stabbed with the point.

On and on it went. _Stab. Stab. Stab._

‘I’m sensing you’re angry with me,’ Hardy commented, not even bothering to look up from the menu.

‘You shouldn’t have shouted at me before.’

‘You shouldn’t have gone ahead like that.’

 A waiter came over to take their order.

‘I’ll take the risotto,’ Hardy said, putting his glasses in his pocket. ‘And for my wife – were you thinking a salad?’

Ellie smiled at him, sickly sweet. ‘I was thinking the salad. Then I realised salads are disgusting.' To the waiter, she said, 'I'll get the soup of the day, the catch of the day, a prawn cocktail, and a bowl of chips. With extra tomato sauce. Ta.’

She handed the menus to the waiter, who left with a bow, and sat back, looking pleased.

'You don't like salad?' Hardy said slowly.

'Hate them.'

'Oh.'

He looked crestfallen and she could tell he was thinking of all the salads he had made for her. She thought to derive some satisfaction from this, but seeing the stupid expression on his face left her with nothing but guilt. He looked like a kicked puppy.

'Not yours though,' she amended quickly. 'At least you put plenty of mayonnaise on them.'

He brightened a little but looked unconvinced. 'You add the mayonnaise yourself.'

'Hence why they're good. Teamwork.'

He shook his head with a wry smile. Then his phone went off and he looked at the screen. After reading it for some time, he shoved it back into his pocket.

Ellie's hand was sitting on the table, just next to the bright candle. He grasped it gently between both of his hands and leaned forward, as if he were about to whisper sweet nothings to her.

‘Just got word from Jenkinson,’ he said, and she leaned forward too, placing her other hand on top of his. ‘She’s pleased with our work so far. She said that if we get the chance we should try to find the stash, but _only_ if we're certain and _only_ if there’s no risk of blowing our cover.’

‘So should we try to get into his room?’ she asked. She was only inches away from his face, and staring into his eyes. They were so beautiful. Big and brown and dusky, and slightly iridescent like a moth’s wing, with long feathery lashes…

‘Sue?’ he prompted. ‘What do you think?’

Shit. Had he just asked her a question? She hadn’t even heard.

_I need to get this under control.  
_

‘What?’ she asked.

‘I said we should try to get the key from one of the housekeepers.’

‘What about the room safe?’ He was running his thumb back and forth on her hand.

‘They usually keep a master key at reception. Dunno if we’ll be able to get that.’

‘We should try.’ He was so close now she could feel his breath on her skin.

‘I also told Jenkinson about your hunch.’ He gave her nose a playful nuzzle with his own. ‘That Stoke might own a yacht.’

‘And?’ He had so many freckles. There was even one on his eyelid, and about a hundred on that stupid crooked nose.

‘No record of Stoke ever owning a boat.’

‘Ah,’ she murmured. ‘I was so sure…’

He leaned in a little further. And further. Ellie parted her lips and closed her eyes.

‘One prawn cocktail!’ the waiter announced loudly.

Hardy pulled back with a start. His hands left hers and he slumped back in his seat.

‘Sorry,’ the waiter said cheekily. ‘Didn’t mean to interrupt your nooky there.’

‘That’s quite all right,’ Hardy replied. ‘That’s hers.’ He pointed to an ashen Ellie, and the waiter set the prawn cocktail in front of her.

‘Thanks,' Ellie muttered, and both cursed and blessed the hour she had ordered it.

*

‘Darling, are you sure you need dessert?’ Hardy asked with some concern. He had just watched her determinedly struggle through her four courses. She looked fit to burst and she was groaning.

‘Yes,’ Ellie insisted. ‘Get me the mud cake,’ she told the waiter.

‘And you, sir?’

‘Green tea,’ he sighed. The waiter nodded and left. ‘You’re going to make yourself sick,’ he warned Ellie.

‘So be it.’

He seemed equally perplexed and impressed. Then his gaze flicked over the top of her head and his expression changed. He shifted in his seat.

‘What is it?’

‘Don’t turn around. It’s Stoke.’

‘Shit. Where?’

‘Coming this way. Don’t look.’

Ellie faked a loud laugh that filled the restaurant. ‘Jude, you’re such an idiot,’ she said, slapping his arm.

Stoke walked past them.

‘Oh! Peter!’ Ellie exclaimed.

Stoke turned on his heel. He looked at Ellie, poshed up and resplendent in her flattering midnight blue dress, and he smiled.

‘Mrs Fawley,’ he said. ‘I see you made it to the restaurant.’

‘I did, and took your advice. I went for the catch of the day. Figured I couldn’t go wrong with that.’

‘A wise choice. I heard it’s flounder today. Freshly caught out in the bay.’

‘Yes; and it was delicious,' she laughed. 'Jude, this is Mr Stoke. The man I met yesterday while you were on the toilet – remember me telling you?’

‘I do remember,’ Hardy replied. He stretched out his hand and Stoke shook it. ‘I’m Jude, Sue’s husband. It's nice to meet you. She kept going on about how happy she was to finally meet someone friendly here.’

‘Really? I’m glad to have made a good impression.’

‘Are you dining alone tonight? Would you like to sit with us?’ Ellie asked. ‘We’ve just ordered dessert, but I’d be happy to stay a bit longer.'

Stoke hesitated, but after some persuasion he agreed. He pulled up his chair next to Ellie’s.

‘Tell me about yourselves,’ Stoke said. ‘Have you been married long?’

‘About three years,’ Ellie supplied. ‘We’re practically newlyweds.’

‘We _are,_ as far as I’m concerned,’ Hardy said. ‘Our jobs keep us so busy that we never got the time to go on a proper honeymoon. This trip’s to make up for that. Just one week of nothing but sun, sand, and each other.’

He smiled dreamily at his wife and took her hand. She smiled back. ‘So what about you? Are you married?’

Stoke took a sip of water. ‘No. Not anymore.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Ellie said. ‘Divorced?’

‘Yes,’ Stoke said with a sigh. ‘Hence why I’m here alone.’ He gestured around at the resort.

‘It must be hard,’ she murmured.

‘Ah. I do miss her. But it was a long time coming.’

Ellie diplomatically changed the subject. 'So. What do you do?’

‘I’m something of an entrepreneur. I mainly work further north, but a mix of business and pleasure has brought me south.’

‘How lucky! You couldn’t have picked a nicer time to come here. I can’t believe how beautiful it is on the coast. Jude and I had the best time just walking around the docks earlier, looking at all the ships.’

‘If you like ships, there’s a maritime museum near the docks that’s worth seeing,’ Stoke said.

‘I don’t think we’ll be seeing that,’ Hardy said abruptly.

‘Why not?’ Sue asked.

‘We’ve seen enough of ships.’

‘Oh.'

Stoke frowned at Hardy. ‘Never mind, then. So what do you do?'

‘I’m a banker. Sue’s in real estate,’ Hardy replied. ‘We own some investment properties too.’

‘That must keep you busy,’ Stoke remarked. ‘Any kids?’

‘No. None.’

‘Any planned?’

‘Yes,’ said Hardy.

‘No,’ said Ellie simultaneously.

They looked at each other.

‘Oh dear,’ Stoke said. ‘Have I hit upon a point of contention?’

‘No,’ said Ellie.

‘Yes,’ said Hardy.

They looked at each other again.

‘I’d like to start a family soon,’ Hardy elaborated.

‘And I said I’m not ready,’ Ellie replied.

‘Then when will you be ready?’

'I might not _ever_ be ready if you keep pressuring me.'

'I know, darling, I'm sorry. It's just... well, time is of the essence.'

'And what the _hell_ does that mean?'

Hardy blanched. 'I - just that you're not getting younger. If we keep putting it off, it might not happen.'

'You're saying I'm old?' Ellie threatened.

'No - but your uterus -'

'How _dare_ you bring up my uterus at this table!' she yelled. 'I'll fix my dusty old uterus the day you fix your erectile dysfunction!'

'I'm taking pills for that!' Hardy shouted. 'You of all people should know it's under control!'

A deafening silence fell. Every patron in the restaurant seemed to be looking at them.

'I think I should probably leave,' Stoke said, withdrawing smoothly from the table. 'I'm sorry to have started a fight.'

'Oh no - stay, please,' Ellie begged. She touched Stoke's hand. 'God, I'm so sorry you had to see that. We're not normally like this. It's just...'

'Wrong question, wrong time,' he said with a thin-lipped smile. 'I'll find my own table.'

He left. Ellie started up and followed. 'Will I at least see you at the ballroom dinner tomorrow?' she asked. 'I'd feel terrible if we parted like this.'

She looked so plaintive that Stoke had to agree. 'Only if you promise me a dance,' he said.

She smiled with relief. 'Done.'

He took her hand and kissed it. 'I will see you tomorrow, then. And please, don't let your husband pressure you into anything. If you're not ready, you're not ready.'

With a final smile at her, he slipped into the back of the restaurant. Ellie returned to her seat. Most of the people in the restaurant were still staring at them.

The waiter brought her cake out. 'Can I get this in a doggy bag?' she asked.

*

Back in the hotel room, Hardy and Ellie were still largely in shock.

'At least he agreed to dance with me tomorrow,' Ellie said. 'I sort of salvaged it at the end there.'

'How did that even happen?' Hardy groaned, his head in his hand. 'That was the worst thing I've ever seen.'

'We just weren't prepared for the question. I can't remember discussing whether Jude and Sue wanted kids.'

'We had him right there! It was a perfect opportunity! How did we manage to fuck up that badly? God, I know you have a temper, but-'

'What _I_ find weird is how polite he is. You'd think a millionaire drug dealer would be some horrible misogynist, but he thought _you_ were the dick for trying to pressure me into having kids.'

'We could have had hours with him! The whole dinner - think what we've lost!'

'He even kissed my hand - that's some kind of 19th century chivalry nonsense.'

'We could have got him drinking, too - loosened him up. Christ, I don't believe this.'

They slumped side by side on the bed. Hardy sighed and started taking off his shoes, while Miller took the cake out of her purse, picked it up with one hand and took a tremendous bite.

'Really?' Hardy demanded.

'Stress eating,' she snapped. 'It's your fault.' She took another bite. 'Do you want some?'

He considered it. 'Yeah,' he relented, and picked some from her hand.

'It's good,' Hardy reflected. 'It's a heart attack waiting to happen, but it's good.'

They munched quietly together. Ellie was stewing over a question, trying to think of a way to ask it tactfully.

'You don't really have erectile dysfunction, do you?'

Hardy choked and black crumbs went flying everywhere. 'Excuse me?'

'It's nothing to be ashamed of. I just wondered - you came up with that pills explanation pretty quickly.'

'And you were pretty quick to make the accusation!' He paused. 'You're serious? You really think instead of heart medication I've been popping penis pills all this time?'

'Well - I know the two conditions aren't exactly... strangers.'

'Your concern is flattering, Miller,' he said dryly, 'but I assure you, all is well in that department.'

'So... it doesn't have anything to do with Tess...?'

Hardy sprang to his feet, looking furious. 'You think the reason Tess and I broke up was because I couldn't fuck her anymore?'

'God - I wouldn't say it like that -'

'But it's what you're asking. The answer is no.'

'Then why?'

'I said I don't want to talk about it.'

He stalked into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. She heard the sound of the shower start up.

'Fucking pissing hell,' Ellie said loudly, and she angrily ate the rest of her cake.

_I've managed to make a mess of fucking everything today._

She changed into her pyjamas and set up the bed. She placed Hardy's blanket on his side, but paused with the pillows in her hand, and ended up putting them back on the floor.

Hardy emerged. He was still looking thunderous so she said nothing. Scooting into the bathroom, she brushed her teeth.

When she came out, her heart sank when she saw Hardy had set up the wall of pillows. He was already on his side, curled into a ball and facing away from her.

'I'm sorry,' Ellie offered, and the words seemed so paltry when she uttered them that she cringed. 'For everything today.'

Something behind the pillows sighed.

'I'm sorry too. I made just as many mistakes.'

'We'll get it right tomorrow,' Ellie said confidently. 'We've got the ballroom dinner, and we might get into his room, too. We're bound to find something.'

'Yeah.'

She turned off the light.

'Goodnight, Jude.'

'Goodnight, Sue.'


	3. Day Three

They woke up early the next day and carefully staked out the hallway until they saw Stoke leave. Once assured he was out for the day, they went about trying to secure access to his room. The attempted theft of a spare card key from reception proved fruitless; they then tried to sneak past the housekeeper when she was cleaning his room, but she was too shrewd for them, and a further attempt to steal the key from her failed. They decided to leave it there lest they draw too much attention to themselves.

Sitting dejectedly in a Budmouth café, Hardy and Ellie stirred their coffees and tried to plan their next move.

‘We should probably give up on the hotel room,’ Ellie sighed. ‘The only way we’re getting that key from the hotel staff is if we show our badges and ask, and Jenkinson expressly forbade us from doing that.’

‘Because we don’t know who he’s paid off. Anyone could be working for him.’

They suddenly looked suspiciously around at the bustling café and huddled closer together.

‘Well... what if we stole the card key from him?’ Ellie suggested.

‘What – from Stoke?’

‘Tonight, at the dance. You said it yourself. There’ll be drinking, dancing… his guard will be down.’

‘And he promised to dance with you,’ Hardy said slowly. ‘How good are your pickpocketing skills?’

‘Rubbish. But if he’s drunk, I can manage it. If I get the key, then I can give it to you and keep Stoke busy while you run upstairs.’

He thought about it. ‘I don’t like splitting up,’ he said carefully, ‘but I think it’s a good plan. I can be there and back in ten minutes. You’ll be in a crowded room the whole time, so no danger to you. And if all goes well you could even plant the key back on him so he doesn’t know it’s missing.’

Ellie nodded. ‘And if it doesn’t work, I’m sure I’ll still be able to talk something out of him.’

They finished their coffees and spent the rest of the afternoon at the Budmouth markets. Ellie happily sampled all the foodstuffs on offer and teased Hardy for being fussy when he balked. She made him try on hand-knitted woollen hats and laughed so hard at his morose expression that she could barely steady the camera to take a picture. Coming to a stall that sold wooden toys, Hardy selected a wooden fish painted to look like Dory from _Finding Nemo_ and discreetly bought it when Ellie wasn’t looking. He surprised her with it later, muttering a sentence that ended in “Fred.”

*

‘Have you seen my hair clips?’ Ellie demanded from the bathroom.

‘They’re near the toothpaste,’ Hardy called.

The hotel room was a flurry of activity as the two of them got ready for the ballroom dinner. Hardy was in the bedroom, while Ellie had claimed the bathroom.

‘Son of a bitch!’ Ellie shrieked.

‘You all right?’

She came out with one eye closed, staring blearily at him. Her hair and half her make-up was done, but she was wearing a robe. ‘Stabbed myself in the eye with mascara. Where are the tissues?’

He handed one to her.

‘Ta. Christ, these stockings are already giving me a wedgie and I haven’t even got my dress on,’ she said. She picked at them under the robe.

‘This is ruining the feminine mystique for me, somewhat,’ Hardy commented.

‘You had a wife and a teenage daughter. The existence of feminine mystique should have been disproved years ago. Balls!’

There was a clatter. He could hear her cursing as she retrieved whatever she had dropped.

Hardy groomed himself in the small mirror near the table. He buttoned himself into his suit, but was missing something.

‘Miller,’ he called.

‘What?’

‘Have you seen a pair of cufflinks?’

‘Are you sure they packed them?’

‘They must’ve.’ He rummaged through the bag. ‘I can’t go unless I find them!’ 

‘Calm down Cinderella, we’ll get you to the ball,’ Ellie said, emerging from the bathroom. She had finished doing her make-up and had a sleek black dress on. It bunched oddly around her, and he soon saw why.

‘Will you zip me up?’ she asked. ‘I can’t reach.’

‘Oh – uh, yeah.’

Ellie turned around. While he fumbled with the zip, Ellie looked through the bag.

‘I think I found them,’ she said, opening a pocket.

‘Miller – I mean, Sue.’

‘What?’

‘You need to breathe in.’

Ellie stood up straight and sucked in her gut. Hardy tugged at the zip.

‘It’s not going up.’

‘Then put your back into it.’

‘I’m trying!’

‘Heave, man. Heave!’

‘Nngghhh!’

‘Urrrgghh!’

‘GAH!’ they gasped together as the zip snapped skyward.

‘Phew,’ Ellie said. She flattened a hand over her stomach. ‘Got it. And,’ she plunged into one of the bag pockets, ‘I got your cufflinks too – oh.’

‘What?’

Ellie turned around. She had two boxes in her hand. One contained the cufflinks. The other…

‘Condoms?’ said Hardy.

There was a post-it note stuck to the front of the box. Ellie peeled it off.

_For Shitface,_

_Just in case!_

_XOXO._

Ellie screwed up the paper in her hand. ‘I’m going to kill them.’

‘They got me extra small,’ Hardy said glumly.

‘I bet it was Brian,’ Ellie declared. ‘That _arsehole.’_

‘How long have they been calling me Shitface? I’ve not heard that.’

‘I know his handwriting. It’s got to be him. But how many others were in on it?’

‘First they call me Shitface, then they buy condoms I can’t even use…’

‘What?’ Ellie said suddenly, looking at him. 

‘What? Nothing,’ he said quickly.

Ellie squinted at him. Then she slapped the cuffs against his chest and threw the box in the bin.

‘I bet they’re all laughing at us at the station,’ she muttered.

‘We’ll be the ones laughing when we bring in one of the biggest dealers in Wessex.’

They finished dressing. Hardy buttoned up his dinner jacket and Ellie contorted her feet until they fit into the pair of black high heels that had been packed for her.

‘Heels,’ she groaned. ‘I hate heels. I hate dresses. I hate make-up. I hate posh dinners, I hate dancing and I hate…’

Hardy turned around. He was fixing one of his cufflinks, but he was otherwise fully dressed. The suit was blue velvet and it fit him exceptionally well, moulding to every part of him. In place of a tie, a bowtie was fixed at his throat. His beard was thick but well groomed, and his slicked back hair gleamed.

‘Wow. You scrub up well,’ Ellie commented. ‘We should infiltrate drug rings more often.’

‘And you… you look…’

‘Ridiculous,’ she sighed. Hardy scrutinised her. The black dress did wonders for her cleavage, sucked in her belly and ballooned out into a ring of lace and ruffles. She’d also put on a pair of thick black stockings, which she’d bought today at the markets because, as she’d loudly told Hardy, she shaved her legs for no one.

“I gave up on that after I had Fred and I don’t intend to go back,” had been her words.

To anyone who knew her and her temperament, she would have looked ridiculous if they saw her now. But to a stranger, she would have looked like a gorgeous, genteel and wealthy woman.

‘Ridiculous isn’t quite the word I would use,’ he remarked delicately.

‘Well, you’re my husband so you have to say I look good,’ she teased.

‘You do look beautiful,’ he said quickly.

‘And you look dashing. Except your bowtie’s crooked.’

She straightened it for him, and being this close she couldn’t help patting the lapels of his jacket.

‘So soft,’ she said. ‘I love velvet.’

Hardy grunted and she realised she was stroking the material a little too enthusiastically.

‘We look the part,’ she concluded. ‘Ready?’

‘Ready.’

He offered her his arm. She took it and they went downstairs.

*

The evening began with a three course dinner. Hundreds of couples were in attendance, all swanning around in elegant dresses and tailored suits. They recognised some as patrons of the hotel, but there were outsiders too.

Hardy and Ellie got their own table, set with silverware over a white tablecloth. They were shown a set menu with only two options. Hardy groaned over what was on offer and Ellie kicked him under the table.

‘I don’t see him anywhere,’ Ellie said. They were almost up to dessert and the candles were burning low. ‘He said he’d be here.’

Hardy went to the toilet for the fifth time, trying to locate Stoke as he moved through the crowd. For the third time, the waiter set down his dish in front of an empty chair.

‘I’m afraid my husband’s got the runs,’ Ellie laughed by way of explanation.

The waiter looked worried.

Dinner concluded. After something of a meet and greet, where everyone milled around for about half an hour, chatting and allowing their stomach to settle, the doors to the ballroom were flung open.

A veritable orchestra was playing in the corner of the room, with musicians sawing mournfully away on cellos and violins as a piano came to life. They were welcomed by a host, and at his word the dancing began.

Ellie panicked. She groped at Hardy.

‘This is… this is proper dancing,’ she said.

‘Yes.’

‘But – I don’t – I thought when they said a dance they meant – like you do at a friend’s wedding, where everyone’s just lumped in together.’ A couple twirled past her. ‘There are rules to these dances. _Steps._ Like – old-timey stuff!’

‘It’s a ball. What were you expecting?’

‘A bunch of drunk people pretending to be posh as they gyrate in a crowd,’ Ellie said. She pawed Hardy’s arm frantically. ‘Stoke wants to dance with me. _Dance_ with me. I have no idea how to dance like this!’

‘It’s all right,’ Hardy soothed. ‘I do.’

‘You? _You_ know how to dance?’

He nodded. ‘I learned. With Tess.’

‘Oh. Was this one of your evening classes?’

He nodded again. ‘Ballroom dancing. Only did it for six weeks before I got fed up, but I remember most of it.’

She calmed down a little. ‘All right. How?’

He turned to face her. ‘Like this.’

He put his hand on her waist and drew her close. A spike of heat went through her. She flushed red and tried to shuffle back.

‘You have to stay close to me,’ he said. ‘Put your hand on my shoulder.’

She did.

‘No – the other hand.’

She swapped.

‘Okay. Now…’

He took her other hand in his and held it tight. Pulling her close, and with the tiniest of smiles on his stupid face, he swept her onto the dance floor.

‘Wait – I’m not ready!’ she exclaimed.

‘Just follow my lead,’ he soothed. ‘That’s it…’

He explained the steps to her and counted her through them. ‘One, two, three… ow, Sue, that was my foot.’

‘Sorry. Sorry,’ she muttered. Her heart was pounding in her chest. Sweat was beginning to bead on her upper lip.

 _What I sight I must be,_ she groaned.

‘That’s right, watch me… one, two, three, four…’

They crashed into another pair of dancers.

‘Sorry!’ Ellie cried.

‘One, two… ow!’

‘It’s the heels!’ Ellie exclaimed. She stumbled, but he caught her firmly and held her upright.

_Oh God, he’s strong…_

‘Just relax,’ Hardy said. He continued to talk her through the steps. ‘Move with me now, one, two…’

They bumped into another couple.

‘Sue,’ Hardy said, dropping his head with a tiny laugh so that his forehead bumped hers, ‘you have to let me lead.'

‘Why?’

‘Because the man always leads.’

Ellie muttered something about sexist bullshit.

‘Just relax,’ he said, straightening. ‘Trust me.’

She wet her lips and looked up from her feet. Locking her gaze on Hardy, she adjusted her grip on his shoulder and nodded. They began to move.

‘One, two, three, four,’ he murmured. She followed his lead. ‘That’s it. One, two, three, four…’

‘I think I’m getting the hang of this,’ she said.

‘Shall we try a spin?’

‘Go on, then.’

Gently, oh so gently, he took her hand and spun her in a circle around him before drawing her close and claiming her waist once more. Flushed, excited, her heart pounding fit to burst, Ellie smiled triumphantly up at him. He smiled in return, his eyes soft, and suddenly they were both very still, only just swaying back and forth. As dancers moved around them, they were a fixed point.

His grip on her hand tightened subtly. He leaned in.

The song ended and the dancers broke into thunderous applause as the musicians bowed. Startled, Hardy and Ellie broke apart and quickly joined in clapping.

_Was that…?_

No, she told herself sternly. They were in public. He was only being affectionate because he was her husband.

_But maybe…_

The band struck up a new song, slightly more lively. Hardy coached her through this one as well.

‘So,’ she said, trying to keep things light. ‘Were you top of the class when you took lessons?’

‘Tess was really good. I always held her back. Like in most things, I guess,’ he sighed.

‘You seem pretty good to me.’

‘Only because of the lady I’m dancing with.’

‘I’m that good?’

‘No, you’re that bad.’

She couldn’t help feeling a little stung. ‘I thought I was doing all right.’

‘Well, you’re not terrible, but you’re not as good as Tess. That’s all I meant.’

Oh, that one definitely stung. ‘Not as good as Tess?’

‘No.’

She squinted at him. ‘You said you’d done,’ Ellie paused as they swept close by another couple, ‘undercover work before. Did you do it with Tess?’

‘Yes,’ he said, not comprehending her meaning.

‘She was your partner in undercover work?’

‘Well – yes, but I was mostly paired with another bloke called Anton. What’s your point?’

They were starting to move out of step. Ellie trod on his foot and Hardy stumbled.

'Do you wish you were with Tess now?'

'Why are you asking that?'

‘Not as good as Tess,’ Ellie repeated bitterly.

‘Sue – Sue, I only meant that you’re not as good a dancer.’

‘Oh, I’m sure that’s all you meant!’ Ellie snapped.

They were completely out of sync now. It was more of a wrestle than a dance as he tried to move one way and she insisted on going another. They crashed into another couple.

'Where's this come from all of a sudden?' Hardy demanded.

'You're the one who said it!'

'It doesn't mean anything!'

'It means you're thinking of her!' She pulled out of his grip and they ground to a halt. 'Why am I not good enough for you?'

'I never _said_ that!' Hardy roared, and Ellie and several people around them took a step back.

'Excuse me,' a genteel voice said. 

Hardy and Ellie turned. 

‘Oh,’ Ellie said in genuine surprise. ‘Oh – Mr Stoke!’

‘I hope this isn’t a bad time,’ he said. ‘I just saw you and remembered that I owe you a dance.’ He nodded at Hardy. ‘Mr. Fawley.' 

Hardy nodded stiffly back.

‘Yes – yes, that’s right,' Ellie said, trying to compose herself.

‘Is now all right, or should I come back?’

‘No. Now is perfect. You don’t mind, do you, Jude?’

By her tone it was evident that this was a command. Hardy shook his head. ‘I’ll wait for you by the punch bowl,' he muttered, and stalked off.

Stoke took Ellie’s hand and led her onto the floor. He was quite a short man. In her heels, Ellie was the same height as him, but there was a wiry strength to him, and an elegance to his movements. He was obviously a practiced dancer, but he didn’t seem to mind Ellie’s inexperience.

It was strange being this close to him. She could smell his aftershave. She thought it would repulse her, but, strange as it was – she kind of liked him. He seemed rather dapper. Even gentlemanly.

‘I’m glad to see you,’ she said. ‘I looked for you at dinner but I couldn’t find you.’

‘I was held up,’ he said. ‘I only arrived a short time ago.’

‘Held up by business or pleasure?’

He laughed. ‘Business.’

‘You never did tell me exactly what it is you do.’

‘I do like to maintain,’ he paused to twirl her in a circle, ‘an air of mystery.’

Oddly, she found it quite easy to move in step with Stoke. He was incredibly proficient, and he guided her movements with the subtlest of touches.

Ellie glimpsed Hardy off to the side. He was watching them, his arms folded and a deep scowl on his face.

Stoke must have seen him too, for he remarked, ‘your husband doesn’t appear to approve of us together.’

‘Sod him. I’ve had enough of that miserable bastard for one night.’

‘I gathered you were fighting when I arrived, but I thought better of mentioning it,' Stoke said. He offered, 'would you like to talk about it?’

Ellie hesitated. ‘It’s just – he’s just – he just drives me _crazy_ sometimes. One minute he can be so sweet and caring, and the next he’s acting like the biggest wanker on the planet.’

‘How frank. He certainly doesn't seem to treat you all that well, as far as I can see. He doesn’t hurt you, does he?’

‘No – God no, never. He’s not like that. But we do fight an awful lot. I mean – don’t get me wrong, I love him, but sometimes I wonder if we really are right for each other.’

_Love…? Was that me or Sue Fawley speaking?_

‘I wonder the same thing,’ Stoke said. He held her a little closer to him and stroked his thumb back and forth on her hand. ‘It’s strange. I find myself drawn to you. I’m usually a solitary person, but there’s something about you…’ He studied her for a moment. ‘Perhaps it is because you resemble my former wife.’

Ellie said nothing. They twirled past a cluster of dancers, to the other side of the room where they were obscured from Hardy’s view.

‘Surely you feel this connection too.’

'I do,' she said carefully. 'I know I felt... something... when I met you.'

'If you are... unhappy in your marriage,' Stoke murmured earnestly.

'Oh - well, I don't know if I'd say  _that_...'

Stoke regarded her with his tawny eyes.

‘But,’ she said, ‘I wouldn’t say no to a drink later, either.’

She hadn’t forgotten her original objective of getting Stoke’s card key, but she knew it was pointless to try while he was sober. If she could get him drunk, however...

‘I’m afraid I don’t drink,’ Stoke replied, and her heart sank.

_There goes that plan._

‘But I would like to spend more time with you,’ he went on.

‘So would I.’

He smiled. They finished their dance and the music concluded. As they applauded, a waiter ran up to Stoke.

‘Mr Stoke? A message just came through on reception.’

He whispered whatever it was into Stoke’s ear and his expression changed. The waiter ran off again and Stoke turned to Ellie.

‘Business calls, and pleasure must wait. I may not see you again tonight. But at least I got one dance with you.’

He moved a little closer and added, ‘I don't want to pressure you into anything. But - if you do want to see me, or if you have another fight with your husband and you just need to get away from him, my room is right down the end of the hall. All you need to do is knock.’

He drew away and kissed her hand, letting his lips linger there for several seconds. His eyes never left her.

‘Goodnight, Mrs Fawley. I hope I see you again.’

He disappeared into the crowd. Ellie returned to Hardy in a daze.

‘Well? Did you get the key?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she said faintly. ‘I did find another way into his room, though. But you’re not going to like it.’

Hardy sputtered when she told him. ‘He _propositioned_ you? But you’re married!’

‘Didn’t seem to make much of a difference. I think…’ she paused. ‘I think he really likes me. He said I reminded him of his ex-wife.’

‘But you’re _my_ wife!’ He was apoplectic.

‘And he thinks you’re a dick,’ Ellie added. ‘He said I shouldn’t let you treat me the way you do.’

Hardy’s jaw hung slack. He closed it with a snap and a ferocious look spread over him. ‘No. Absolutely not. I won’t leave you alone with him.’

‘Why not? It’s the perfect opportunity to look through his room.’

‘I don’t give a fuck! He’s not getting you behind closed doors!’

‘Lower your voice!’ Ellie hissed. She pulled him off to one side where it was a little quieter. ‘Think about this practically. The best evidence is in his room and he just _invited_ me there. Are we really going to pass that up?’

‘Yes,’ Hardy said. ‘We’ll find something else. _Anything_ but that.’

They argued back and forth until Ellie gave in and agreed with him. Still stewing quietly, they huddled together on the outskirts for a while. Almost an hour passed before Hardy noticed Stoke picking his way through the ballroom. Another man was with him.

‘Do you recognise the guy he’s with?’ Hardy asked as they hurried after them.

‘No. Never seen him before.’

She pulled out her phone and took several pictures, but they were too blurry to be of much use.

Stoke and his friend headed outside, to the back of the resort where there was a small garden lit up with floodlights aimed at tall poplar trees. The path was lined with gravel; Hardy and Ellie had to tiptoe across the mulchy flowerbeds to avoid making noise. Ellie stumbled in her heels and Hardy caught her, keeping her steady.

The men disappeared around the corner. Pressed flush against the wall of the building, Ellie and Hardy crept closer. They could faintly hear the men’s voices.

A floodlight lit up the corner of the building and a large part of the side, too. If they wanted to hear, Ellie knew they would have to step into that vast tract of lighted space, and her instincts told her this was far too dangerous. She stayed in the dark.

To her surprise, Hardy kept going. He had a look of determination about him, and he walked right up to the very corner.

Not wanting to be left behind, and trusting that he knew what he was doing, Ellie joined him.

They still had to strain to hear, but the words were more obvious.

‘You’ll get the goods from Sally-Anne,’ Stoke was saying. ‘I keep them all with her. Go and see her in a few days and it will all be waiting.’

Ellie pinched Hardy at the word “Sally-Anne.” She _knew_ she’d heard a woman’s name.

The other man said something. Stoke laughed.

‘You know I’m a man of my word,’ he replied.

There was another reply, then the two of them shook hands. Just as quickly as before, it was over. Their footsteps crunched on the gravel.

It suddenly dawned on Hardy how exposed they were. ‘Oh fuck. He’s coming back this way.’

They tried to pick their way quietly to the dark flowerbeds, but it was fruitless. They couldn’t reach the dark without making too much noise, and to stay in the light meant he would see them.

‘Shit. What do we do?’ Ellie whispered.

Hardy looked around wildly for an escape route. ‘Run,’ he told her. ‘I’ll stay here and distract him long enough for you to get away. No sense in both of us -’

Without warning Ellie seized his lapels, slammed him against the wall and began kissing him passionately. He faltered in shock and his limbs seized up.

The footsteps grew louder. Some part of his brain processed what was happening and he fastened his arms around her, lifted her clean off the ground and spun her around until he had her pressed against the wall. Her legs wrapped around him and his hips ground against her. Their hands were everywhere at once, his on her waist and breasts, hers tangling in his hair.

His lips left her mouth and he began sucking and biting her neck. A soft gasp escaped her. At that precise moment she looked over Hardy’s shoulder and saw Stoke standing there.

‘Mr and Mrs Fawley,’ Stoke said coolly. ‘I see you’ve patched things up.’

Ellie patted Hardy, signalling for him to put her down. Once she had regained her feet, she tugged her dress down and burst into a fit of giggles.

‘Sorry!’ she exclaimed. ‘We didn’t realise anyone was out here. Jude and I wanted to…’ she hiccoughed loudly and wiped her mouth, still giggling, ‘get away from the crowd.’

‘Perhaps you should take it back to your hotel room, then,’ he remarked.

‘Mmm, that’s just what I was thinking,’ Hardy growled into her ear, and he kissed her warmly, almost possessively. It lasted for about ten seconds before Ellie broke it off, seized his hand and dragged him away.

‘Come on, come on!’ she laughed.

‘I’m coming,’ he responded.

They walked unsteadily as if drunk, Hardy pausing awhile to kiss her or get close to her.

‘Goodnight!’ Ellie called with a last glance over her shoulder.

Stoke put his hands into his pockets as they disappeared. ‘Goodnight.’

After a giddy flight, Hardy and Ellie finally reached the lift. In the interest of keeping up appearances, they clung to each other as they passed the receptionist.

Once they were inside their hotel room, Ellie almost exploded.

‘What the _fuck_ was that?’ she demanded. ‘You gave me the bollocking of a lifetime when I got too close to him, and then you went and did exactly the same thing!’

Hardy did not reply. He started looking through their bag and would not meet her eye.

‘Well? What’s your answer?’ She put her hand on her hips. ‘You’re seriously not going to say anything? Not even an apology? Not even a “thanks Ellie, your quick thinking saved our skin?”’

Hardy pulled out some papers and started flicking through them.

‘Will you at least _look_ at me!’ she shouted, marching over to him.

He met her burning gaze. ‘Sally-Anne,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s the name of his ex-wife. The goods are with Sally-Anne.’

He slapped one of the papers to her chest. Ellie looked down and read it. ‘Wait… so his ex-wife’s in on it, then? They’re not estranged after all?'

‘Looks like it. Now you don’t need to see Stoke in his hotel room.’

She threw the paper on the bed. ‘Is _that_ what this is about? You don’t trust me to be alone with him, so you nearly got us caught instead?’

‘It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s him.’

He pulled out his phone and started messaging someone. Still furious, Ellie put her hand on his arm and forced him to lower the phone.

‘Is that true? Or is it really me you don’t trust? You think I really will cheat on you like Tess did?’

He pulled out of her grip and walked to the other side of the room.

‘In case you’ve forgotten, I’m not actually your wife,’ Ellie snapped at his retreating back. ‘I’m not going to throw away the perfect chance to get close to Stoke just because you’re insecure about Tess cheating on you one time!’

‘Three years.’

‘What?’ Ellie said.

‘It wasn’t “one time.” It was three years.’

Ellie blinked. Hardy turned around very slowly.

‘Tess and Dave,’ he said wearily. ‘The affair had been going on for three years before I found out.’

‘Oh.’ Ellie felt as if she’d been punched in the gut. ‘Oh… God, I’m sorry.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. He held up the phone. ‘I just told Jenkinson what we found. They’ll be able to get a trace on Stoke’s ex-wife now.’ 

She opened and shut her mouth. Averting her gaze, she stood on the opposite side of the room to him. Hardy began to undress, removing his cufflinks and dropping them in the box, then taking off his bow tie and jacket.

Ellie kicked her shoes off and went into the bathroom to get changed. She let her hair down, removed her make-up and peeled off her stockings.

She knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Are you decent?’

He gave a muffled yes and she walked into the bedroom. Hardy was in a grey t-shirt and pyjama trousers.

‘Um... I need you to get my zip,’ Ellie said, turning around.

He did so, unhooking the top and parting the seams with one smooth motion. His fingers brushed the bare skin of her back.

‘Thanks,’ she murmured.

She returned to the bathroom and got changed, shuffling into her ugly blue PJs. When she got out, Hardy was sitting in bed, looking at his phone.

‘They’re getting a trace on Sally-Anne Stoke now,’ he told her. ‘But Jenkinson said they’ll need more proof from us before they can apply for a search warrant.’

'Well, you know what I think.'

His mouth was set in a grim line. Ellie put her hands on her hips.

‘I want to do it,’ she insisted. ‘I know the risks.’

Hardy shook his head. ‘The risk is you. If I send you in there, I’ll be risking you. I can’t do that.’

She sat on the bed. ‘You’ll be right down the hall the whole time. Nothing will happen to me.’

‘You can’t be sure of that.’

‘Stoke doesn’t know who I am. Right now I’m just a bird he wants to shag.’ Hardy flinched visibly. ‘All I do is go in, flirt for a bit, see what I can find and get out.’

‘And what if he tries to…?’

‘Look, I want this case solved, but there are limits to what I’ll do,’ she joked.

His expression remained as miserable as before. ‘Ellie…’

‘Half an hour,’ she said abruptly. ‘I limit my stay there to half an hour. If I’m not out before that time, then you know something’s gone wrong, and you can come in as the jealous husband, breaking down the door with an axe Jack Nicholson style.’

‘Half an hour,’ he repeated.

‘That’s it. Just thirty minutes.’

He brooded. ‘I’ll be timing it,’ he cautioned. ‘Down to the second.’

‘Good. I expect nothing less.’

‘All right,’ he relented. ‘All right. But I’m not happy about this.’

She got into the bed. After a minute's silence, she had to address the elephant in the room.

'Hey Hardy?'

'Mm?'

She smiled. 'You're a good kisser.'

He had to laugh at that. 'Same goes for you.'

‘It’s funny,’ she went on. ‘Between snogging you and getting chatted up by a drug dealer, this is the most action I’ve had in months.’

He smiled faintly. ‘A year, almost.’

‘Mm. No. Months.’

She could practically hear the cogs whirring in his brain. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Oh, so you… you’ve been with… someone… someone else.’

‘Yes.’

‘Boyfriend?’ he inquired, feigning casual interest.

‘No.’

‘So he was…’

‘Some bloke from the pub. Don’t even remember his name.’

‘Didn’t think you were the type,’ he remarked. ‘Not that there’s anything wrong with having one night stands, but…’

‘First time for everything.’

He dared to add, ‘you don’t seem particularly happy about it.’

‘God no. It was awful.’

‘That bad?’

‘He rolled on and rolled off and I felt dirty and depressed for the next month.’

‘God, I’m sorry.’

‘I was drunk when it happened. I shouldn’t have gone through with it,’ she said morosely. ‘I’ve never been able to enjoy sex if I’m not in love. But a part of me wanted… _something._ ’

He was quiet for a moment. ‘It’s been years for me.’

She blinked. ‘Since you…?’

‘Yeah. Not since Tess.’

‘Is that for lack of trying, or…?’

‘Mm. Well, I’ve never been much of a ladies man. Trying to get out there again was… tough.’

‘I can sympathise, believe me.’

He took this as encouragement, perhaps relieved that he could talk to someone about it without fear of judgement. ‘I did… try. A little.’

‘With Claire?’

He recoiled. ‘God no. With Becca Fisher.’

It was Ellie’s turn to recoil. That’s not much better!’

‘I know. But she was… kind. Flirty. And I wanted -’

‘An easy lay?’

‘Something,’ he finished.

Ellie asked, ‘she turned you down?’

He grunted. ‘Said she was worried I’d collapse on her.’ He hunched over and stared broodingly at the wall. ‘I stopped trying after that. What was the point? I couldn’t offer someone a night, let alone a lifetime.’

His plight moved her, perhaps because it was so near to her own. She touched his arm, lightly. ‘I’m sorry.

‘S’all right. Probably for the best. I genuinely didn’t know if I was going to survive those months. Who knows, having sex might have bumped me off.'

She withdrew her hand. ‘Don’t joke about that,’ she said sharply.

He looked at her in surprise and said nothing.

‘Well, what about now? You’ve got a clean bill of health. Are you ready to get back out there?’

‘Are you?’

She froze, and Hardy realised how she’d taken his words.

‘No – I didn’t mean – I meant, because you’re divorced too, you must know how hard it is to feel ready for all that again.’

Ellie considered his words. ‘After Joe I don’t think I’ll ever be ready,’ she replied. ‘But for the right person, I’d be willing to try.’

‘Yeah,’ he sighed. ‘I’m trying too… for a while, I tried to convince Tess to take me back.’

‘Why in God’s name would you do that?’ Ellie cried. ‘She cheated on you for three years – three fucking years! – and _you_ asked _her_ to take you back? Why?’

Hardy looked dumbfounded at her reaction. He replied very slowly, ‘because… because I missed her and Daisy. And -’ he broke off and his forehead crinkled in thought.

‘Because you’re still in love with her,’ Ellie finished softly, drooping like a flower in the rain. ‘I should have known.’

_Of course he’s still in love with his wife. Of course he is. Idiot. How could I think –_

Hardy hesitated. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything Ellie spoke over him.

‘Is there any chance of Tess taking you back?’

‘Maybe. But I don’t think so.’

‘Because of Dave?’

‘No. They… they never got together. He had a wife of his own, and after everything with Sandbrook, they ended it once and for all. Which is why I thought…’

‘But three years, Hardy!’ she said in dismay. ‘You’d really go back with her after she cheated on you for _three years?_ How can you forgive that betrayal?’

He was silent again, thinking. Ellie reined herself in.

‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I shouldn’t – it’s not my place. If you’re still in love with her, then… then… I mean, she is the mother of your child. So… so it’s only right that…’

There was a lump in her throat. Her eyes were moist.

_Fuck. Oh fuck it all to hell, I’m crying._

‘Are you all right?’ Hardy asked in concern.

She wiped her eyes and clutched for an excuse. ‘Yes. Sorry. I’m fine. I just – um – I was thinking that… well, you’re lucky that you can return to your spouse.'

Hardy sagged. ‘You’re thinking of Joe?’

‘Yeah. The father of my children is a bloody murderer. The man I loved never even existed. I’ve got nothing to go back to. At least you do.’

Hardy handed her a tissue. She tried to wipe her eyes in a dignified way, but ended up blowing her nose with a honk.

‘Sorry,’ she said again. ‘This is embarrassing.’

‘You don’t need to apologise.’

‘I shouldn’t have said that about Tess. It’s just… I’ve seen what that betrayal did to you and… I don’t want her to hurt you again.’

She found his soft brown eyes. ‘Three years,’ she said softly. ‘And then all the bullshit with Sandbrook…’ She shook her head and dabbed her eyes again. ‘You didn’t deserve that.’

No-one had ever said that to him before. Her words rocked him to his core.

‘M’gonna brush my teeth,’ she sniffed, slinking into the bathroom.

After several seconds, Hardy recovered enough to say, ‘I’ll join you.’

They brushed their teeth side-by-side. Ellie kept stealing furtive glances at him in the mirror. His gaze was downcast the whole time.

 _Three years,_ she thought miserably to herself. _Three years and he’s still in love with her. He ruined his career, his reputation for her on Sandbrook. He couldn’t bring himself to have sex with anyone else in the meantime. He won’t tell his own daughter what really happened. Of course he’s still madly in love with her. How could I even think –_

She spat aggressively into the basin and rinsed her orange brush. She turned around to leave just as he leaned over and she accidentally collided with him.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured.

She went to duck around him, but he accidentally stepped that way too. They did it again. Finally, Ellie put a hand on his broad chest, held him in place and ducked to the left.

_My knees still go all funny when I touch him. But to him, I’m just his DS. Or a damsel in distress like Claire that he has to save from some Big Bad Man._

She wasn’t even angry anymore. She was just sad.

She got into bed. Hardy joined her soon after.

Neither of them put up the pillow wall.

‘We’re still on for room infiltration tomorrow, yeah?’ she said.

Hardy agreed with a grunt.

‘All right. Goodnight, Hardy.’

‘Goodnight, Miller.’


	4. Day Four

Ellie was warm when she woke up. In the fuzzy moments of dim consciousness that preceded wakefulness, she vaguely registered that there was an arm around her waist. Nothing odd about that. She sighed and settled back, fully intending to drift off in the secure embrace of her husband.

Her husband.

The remembrance that Joe was her husband hit her with the force of a freight train. Her eyes snapped open, but after a few wild moments she realised it was not Joe that held her but Hardy. She sagged in relief.

The relief was short-lived, however, and she tensed up again. Better Hardy than Joe, but this brought problems of its own.

She remained motionless. She ascertained from his rate of breathing that he was still asleep, so she allowed herself to assess the situation.

He was spooning her. One arm was firmly clasped around her waist. He had pushed up her shirt so he could lay his hand flat on her warm, soft belly, and was unconsciously caressing her caesarean scar. His head was inclined towards her and she could faintly feel his breath tickling her neck. He must have gotten under the covers with her last night. She hadn’t even noticed.

It was nice. Achingly so. She’d never been able to get used to waking up in an empty bed, and the feeling of a strong, masculine arm around her was more comforting than she cared to admit.

‘Mmm,’ Hardy mumbled, drawing her tighter. His fingers flexed on her stomach, sending a wave of heat through her. ‘Mm… love…’

_He must think I’m his wife. Same way I thought he was my husband._

It had been a relief for her to discover the person she was cuddling had not been her spouse. It would not be the same for Hardy, she thought gloomily. How disappointed he would be when he woke up to discover the woman in his arms was not his beloved wife but his cranky DS.

‘Mm… _oh…_ ’ he sighed, and clenched her unexpectedly. Her eyes widened in alarm as he drew so close that the entire length of his body was pressed flush against her, then something – something not insubstantial – was grinding against her backside. ‘Oh _Ellie…_ ’

‘Woah!’ she exclaimed, leaping out of the bed. The movement startled Hardy awake and he looked up blearily.

‘Miller?’ he mumbled. ‘What…?'

Gradually, he pieced together what had happened. Horror crept over his face.

‘Oh God,’ he croaked.

‘I think – I think you were having a dream,’ Ellie stammered.

‘I didn’t realise – I didn’t mean – I’m so sorry -’

He became aware of a further cause for embarrassment and clutched the blankets closer to him, covering his body. He closed his eyes, as if waiting for the end, sure that she was going to kill him with a chair or shout him into oblivion.

But she was too embarrassed for herself - over the fact she had _enjoyed_ it. ‘I call the shower first!’ she yelled, and bustled from the room.

She glimpsed Hardy put his head in his hands.

 _When did he even get under the covers?_ She wondered as she scrubbed herself in the shower.

Another question surfaced.

_Did I really hear him say my name?_

Then a third thought:

_The extra small condoms definitely wouldn’t fit him._

She had to turn the cold tap on full blast.

*

They said no more about the morning’s incident. She decided it was easier to pretend it had not happened, and he was more than willing to go along with her on that.

Breakfast was a little strained and a little silent, but by mid-morning it was all forgotten, and they wandered down to the beach to discuss the plan for infiltrating Stoke's room. Ellie bought them ice creams, and they licked them absently as they walked along the sand, their hands firmly clasped together.

'I'm still not sure about this,' Hardy said. He sucked on the vanilla ice cream with misgiving and Ellie blushed at the sight of his quick, darting tongue. 'You don't have to go through with it.'

'If our situations were reversed and you were the one with the opportunity to infiltrate alone, would you take it?' Ellie asked.

He shied away from the pointed question, and in doing so gave Ellie her answer.

'There. You see?' she said. 'I'm just doing what you would do, Mr. Ace Undercover Detective.'

'Not so loud. We're outside,' he hissed.

Her phone started to ring. She took it out and looked at it. 'It's Tom,' she said. 'Can I take it?'

Hardy glanced around. They'd wandered a fair way down the beach. The closest person was too far away to hear. 'Be quick,' he said. 'I'll keep a look out.'

She answered the phone. 'Hi darling,' she said.

'Mum! Have you caught the bad guy yet?'

'Not yet, but we will soon.'

'I've been telling everyone about how you're an undercover spy. Chloe thinks it's awesome.'

He continued to babble excitedly. Ellie smiled indulgently and Hardy folded his arms as he observed their surroundings, alert to any intrusion. She asked to speak to Fred and after entertaining a short, incoherent conversation with him, she had to end the call.

'I love you, darlings. I love you both so much.'

She made kissy noises, then hung up.

Hardy relaxed. 'Good?' he asked.

'Yeah, they're fine. Sounds like Lucy's spoiling them rotten. Olly took them to the arcade yesterday, and they've been eating take-out every night.'

'Kind of nice to hear Tom so excited,' Hardy said. He added, 'you've got ice cream down your front.'

'Bollocks!' Ellie exclaimed, looking down. The ice cream had melted in her hand and dripped down her shirt, leaving large brown stains. 'Sort of clashes with my “posh Budmouth lady” look, doesn't it?'

'A little.'

She quickly ate the rest of the ice cream with a slurp, then took off her shirt.

'What are you doing?' Hardy said in alarm.

'Keep your hair on. I'm wearing my bathers underneath.' She crumpled the soiled shirt into a ball. 'We are at the beach, after all.' She looked wistfully out at the water. 'Actually, do you mind if we go for a swim?'

He grunted. 'You can.'

He hunched on the beach and brooded there while Ellie went swimming. He kept his gaze locked on her as she turned a few laps in the calm, iridescent water, as though afraid she were going to get swept away at any moment.

The water in Budmouth was different to Broadchurch, Ellie mused. Not quite as rough. Gentle, and coppery green. And missing a view of those enormous sea-bord cliffs she loved so well.

She returned to Hardy's side and flicked water at him. 'Sure you don't want to swim?'

'Positive.'

'At least come paddling with me.'

He exhaled loudly through his nose. Without a word, he took off his loafers and stood barefoot on the sand.

He refused to go any deeper than ankle depth, but Ellie figured it was better than nothing. She slipped her arm through his as they walked, and privately imagined that the two of them were in Broadchurch, walking together not as Sue and Jude Fawley, but as themselves.

They went back to the hotel via the docks. 'Can we have another look at the boats?' Ellie asked.

'Anything for you, my love,' Hardy said.

Her heart skipped a beat. _He wasn't calling you that. It was meant for Sue,_ she reminded herself sternly.

Drawn to the the older wooden vessels, Ellie was delighted to find a large tall ship replica from the mid 1800's. It was unattended, and there was no-one around, so she jumped lightly onto the deck.

To her surprise, Hardy followed. He boarded gingerly, clinging tightly to the shrouds and easing himself onto the gunwale before stepping down.

'You're all right?' Ellie asked.

He nodded. 'Want to see what's so great about these things.'

'You're sure you...?'

'Jude Fawley's not afraid of the water,' he said determinedly. The ship swayed a little in its moorings. He looked green, but quickly recovered. Ellie named the different parts of the ship.

'You should have seen my dad sail one of these old things,' she sighed. 'He was fearless. Always the first to go aloft and ungasket the topsails. He could shimmy up the shrouds faster than anyone. Didn't even bother with a safety harness.'

Hardy looked up the mast at the topsail and blanched. 'He went... up there?'

'Mm-hmm. And out there.' She pointed to the bowsprit and elongated jibboom. 'How else do you think they unfurled the sails?'

'I didn't think about it,' Hardy said. He looked ill.

'This is all authentic though,' she said, running her hand along the smooth wood. On one of those big white tubs most of it would be mechanised. Look – this one's got a ship wheel!'

She alighted on the wooden and brass wheel and turned it in her hands. 'I'm used to the tillers on the smaller ships. Wheels are a bit more complex – better for handling, but they can be a headache if they break. The smaller trading vessels, the originals we used in Broadchurch – they all used the tiller. Just a stick attached to a rudder. Nothing fancy.'

She smiled. He was looking intently at her, his expression unfathomable.

'Want me to show you?' she asked.

He nodded, and as she passed it gently through her hands he stood behind her.

'Imagine all the sails unfurled,' she murmured wistfully. 'Wind at our backs and nothing in front of us but open ocean.'

'Sounds like a bloody nightmare to me.'

'Funny how differently we see it. For me, the ocean is freedom, family. But for you...'

He grunted.

'I suppose it's the same with Broadchurch, too,' she said regretfully. 'It's everything I love in the world and everything you hate.'

He stepped closer. His body brushed hers, and he placed his arms around her, his hands resting atop hers on the wheel.

'I don't know if I hate everything about it.'

The wheel turned slowly under their hands. Wood and brass and warm flesh all melded into one. They could feel the weight of the rudder resisting them.

She wondered if he could feel her trembling.

'There are some things about it I love,' he murmured.

She swallowed hard. 'Like what?'

'Oy!' a voice cried, shattering the moment. 'Oy, you're not meant to be on there! Get off my ship right now!'

They broke apart and Hardy looked over at the man addressing them. Ellie deflated beside him.

'Sorry,' Hardy called nonchalantly. 'My wife and I were just admiring it.'

'The hell you were! I swear, the amount of people who think they can just come on my ship and start re-enacting the bleeding _Titanic...'_

The disgruntled mariner continued to shout. Ellie and Hardy swiftly disembarked.

*

It was evening, and they were back in their hotel room. Everything was in place; all they needed was for Stoke to show up. They staked out the hallway again, looking through the peephole, waiting for him to return to his room.

Hardy was all business, but Ellie was in a state of reverie. She was hung up on what he had said to her.

_What did he mean when he said that? He loves some things about Broadchurch. Did he mean me, or...?_

She stewed over it, but with a shake of her head, she dismissed the incident.

 _Jude Fawley might love Sue,_ she told herself, _but Alec Hardy doesn't love Ellie. He loves Tess._

The notion quite depressed her.

With Stoke nowhere in sight, Hardy took the time to call Daisy. He went into the bathroom for privacy, but Ellie could hear snatches of their conversation.

‘No, no, course I’m not in any danger,' he was saying. 'I’m with Ellie, remember?’ There was a pause. He chuckled. ‘No, I don’t think she’ll be breaking any ribs this time.’

Ellie went red. When Hardy finally finished the call after three “I love yous” and emerged, she had to ask:

‘Were you talking about me?’

‘Oh – yeah,’ Hardy said. ‘I tell Daisy about you sometimes. Ever since I told her you broke Joe’s rib when you found out what he did, you’ve sort of been her hero. Should’ve broken more, according to her.’ He looked a little sheepish.

‘How about that. I've won the approval of a teenage girl. Guess I must be cool after all.'

‘Well – I don’t know if she thinks you’re “cool.”' Hardy amended. 'I told her about that orange coat you always wear and she made herself sick laughing.’

She put her hands on her hips. ‘Exactly what have you been saying about me?’

‘Only the truth.’

‘I dread to think.’

Hardy tapped his hand against his thigh. 'She’d actually like to meet you, when all this is done. Would you – erm, would you like that?’

‘Are you serious? Yes! I’ve wanted to meet her for ages.'

'Really?'

'Yeah. I'm just afraid I'll disappoint now that you've built me up so much.'

‘That’s impossible.'

He said it in such an adoring way that her stomach turned somersaults. Blushing, she rubbed the back of her neck. 'Actually,' she said, addressing the peephole in front of her, 'um, earlier today, Fred was asking after you. I think he’s been missing his Uncle Alec. So I thought – well, I was wondering if you wanted -’

‘Yes.’

‘I haven’t asked anything yet.’

‘I know the answer’s yes.’

She blinked at him. A cautious smile curved over her face. ‘Day at the beach?’ she suggested. ‘You, me, Fred and Tom.’

‘And Daisy? She’d like to visit Broadchurch.’

Ellie paused. She had been thinking of a trip to Budmouth beach. Knowing Hardy was volunteering to bring his daughter to Broadchurch lifted her spirits considerably.

‘Yes. Yes, all five of us! And I’m putting you up at my house. _No_ arguments,’ she said when Hardy opened his mouth.

He shut his mouth and acquiesced with a nod. ‘Okay. I’m looking forward to it already. It can be our celebration for taking Stoke down.’

His expression changed when he said that, and his forehead wrinkled up. He sat on the chair next to her.

‘Be safe tonight, won’t you, Ellie?’

She glanced at him. He was staring at the floor.

'You worry too much,' she teased.

'Seriously.'

He looked like he was about to say something else, but as if on cue the elevator door open. Stoke emerged, looking resplendent in a summer suit.

'It's him,' she said, tensing up.

Hardy stiffened up. Ellie continued to watch carefully until Stoke entered his room and disappeared.

'The eagle has landed,' Ellie pronounced. 'And he's alone. What's the time?'

Hardy glanced at his watch. 'Eight.'

'He was wearing the same suit he wore to dinner the other night. That means he's probably just come from dinner and he's in for the night. Perfect.'

Ellie hurriedly changed clothes, pulling a pair of silk pyjamas on and the hotel dressing robe over that. She pulled at her hair until it was a mess. Then she began to cry.

'Two years of theatre studies in high school are finally paying off,' she remarked as tears coursed down her cheeks.

Hardy looked distressed. 'I don't like seeing you cry.'

'It's only pretend.'

After a few minutes, Ellie looked sufficiently red and teary. She ruffled her hair again, then opened her robe a tiny bit.

'How am I looking?' she asked. 'I'm going for “disheveled yet desirable.”'

'You've definitely got the disheveled part down.' He reached out and closed the top of her dressing gown.

She swatted his hand. 'Leave that alone. I need to show a bit of skin. How else am I supposed to tantalise him?'

'Tantalise him with your personality. And by leaving as soon as possible.'

'That how the ladies usually tease you?

He frowned at her, then slipped her phone into her robe pocket. 'Don't forget this.'

'Thanks. Ready?'

'As I'll ever be.' He took out his own phone. 'Thirty minutes. No more. Preferably less.'

He started the timer.

Seconds later, the sound of a dreadful row filled the hotel.

'Don't be stupid, Sue, come back inside!'

'Don't touch me!'

'Sue!'

'I said _don't!'_

There was a pause.

'What's all this about, really? Tell me it's not him. That smarmy little rich guy -'

'It's not him, it's _you_! You're acting like a complete arsehole!'

'Why? Because I didn't want some stranger putting his hands all over my wife?'

'Because you treat me like I'm your property! For fuck's sake, I can't even _talk_ to a man without you getting jealous!'

'You were doing a lot more than talking.'

'Oh, that is so unfair!'

The argument continued back and forth before reaching its crescendo.

'Why are we even together?' he demanded. 'Do you even love me anymore?'

'I can't answer that.'

'It's a simple question, Sue! Do you love me or not?'

'Yes! Of course I fucking love you! That's the _problem_!'

'I don't understand.'

'No, of course you fucking don't! You never do!'

'Sue – Sue, come back!'

'I can't be around you right now!'

'Fine! Fine, walk away then, like you always do! Leave me! At least I'll get a bit of peace and quiet while you're gone!'

He slammed the door in her face, hard enough to make the whole floor reverberate. Ellie went weeping down the corridor, her robe billowing out behind her. She felt like absurdly like she was in a soap opera as she came to Stoke's door.

She rapped sharply, and burst into a fresh flood of tears just for effect.

_No man can resist a damsel in distress._

The door opened. Stoke stood there in an untucked shirt and suit trousers. He'd plainly been undressing when she knocked.

'Mrs Fawley?' he said.

'I've... um, I've had a bit of a fight with my husband,' she said. 'I need-needed to get away. Do you mind if I come in?'

'Of course not. Come in.' He stood aside and admitted her. The door closed and Ellie sucked in a sharp breath.

_This is it._

'I heard the shouting. I wondered if it was you. My God, look how you're shaking!'

He seated her on the bed, then retrieved a blanket and placed it around her shoulders.

'Thank you,' she said. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. 'I'm so sorry to burst in on you like this. I just... I just can't be around him right now.'

'That's quite all right. You're not hurt, are you?'

'No. No, just shook up.'

He went to the minibar and pulled out the bottle of Scotch whiskey. He poured a drink for both of them.

'I'm afraid I don't have any ice,' he said. 'But a stiff drink should help anyway.'

'You're bold to use the minibar,' Ellie said,trying to smile. She took the glass between her palms. 'Jude shouted me into oblivion when I tried to touch the can of pringles.'

'When they're priced at six pounds, I can understand,' Stoke remarked. He knocked the drink back. Ellie had watched him closely when he poured it, so she saw no harm in following suit. She wiped her mouth.

'Thanks,' she said.

He put the glasses away.

'I suppose all this must seem familiar to you,' Ellie ventured, 'since you're recently divorced.'

'It does, actually.'

'I'm starting to wonder if maybe that could be an option for Jude and I.'

'Things are that bad?'

'They're getting that way.' She wiped her nose. 'Do you regret splitting up with your wife? Or not trying harder to reconcile?'

He looked away. 'I'm sorry... it's a little hard for me to talk about.'

'Who asked for the divorce?'

'She did. But in the end I agreed it was for the best that we end it.'

'Do you miss her?'

'I do. Terribly. Every day.' He exhaled deeply. 'I wish we could have – but no, after what she said, I don't think it could have gone any other way.'

'What's the old saying? If you love something, set it free?'

'Something like that.'

'Um... do you mind if I use your bathroom?' she asked. 'I must look a terrible fright.'

'Be my guest.'

She scooted inside the bathroom and shut the door. Briefly fixing her appearance in the mirror, she hunted around the bathroom for any clues.

She was in luck. Stoke must have been undressing to use the shower, for his dinner jacket was hung up on the back of the bathroom door. She sorted through the pockets and took pictures of some crumpled receipts she found.

Then she hit the jackpot. On the back of a nondescript business card was scrawled the reminder:

_Sally-Anne, 10 pm pick-up, Wildeve and co._

_500g pure._

Mentally cheering to herself, Ellie snapped the picture. She replaced everything back in his pockets, then emerged from the bathroom.

She thought to escape immediately, but she was on such a high that she decided to try her luck again. If she could keep him talking about his ex-wife, she might gain some clues as to exactly what their relationship was like. At the moment, her impression was that either Stoke was a very good actor or his wife had indeed thoroughly broken his heart. If the latter, she could not think why they would still be working together.

Stoke had dimmed the lights in the room. 'Are you feeling better?' he asked.

Ellie nodded. 'Yes. Much, now.'

'Good. You look better.' He paused. 'You're welcome to stay here for the night if you don't feel comfortable returning to your husband.'

'That's very kind of you. But I'll have to face the music sooner or later.'

'Do you really think it may come to a divorce?'

'Honestly? I don't know. We've had fights before, but we always make up. Except this time...'

She trailed off and he contemplated her words. 'Sit with me,' he said. He patted the bed next to him. Ellie obeyed.

'About your ex-wife -'

'Please. I'd rather not. Old wounds.'

'I'm sorry. I've just been curious ever since you said I look like her.'

'The resemblance is remarkable,' he admitted. 'But do not mistake me, that is not the only reason I was,' he stopped for a second to turn more fully towards her, 'drawn to you.'

His hand found hers. It was small and moist, but strong. When Ellie did not react to this, he tugged the band of her dressing gown so that the robe gaped.

She was wearing a lacy, silky two-piece pair of pyjamas underneath, helpfully packed by Dirty Brian and with a note of encouragement attached to it. She'd never been one to wear lingerie,but she knew this little black number became her quite well.

'Your husband is an idiot to treat you as he does,' Stoke said. He slipped his hand under the robe and caressed her thigh. Alarmed at his boldness, Ellie's eyes widened, but she remained still.

He leaned forward by degrees, leaving ample opportunity for her to pull away or tell him to stop. When she did neither, he kissed her.

And he was a tremendous kisser.

_If only Hardy could be this bold._

It was a nice kiss, but she derived no real pleasure from it. She went mechanically through the motions, deciding to tease him just enough to get him worked up before she pressed him further about Sally-Anne.

But he was even bolder than she gave him credit for. His hand moved from her thigh and groped her breast. Before she could react to that he shoved a hand up her shirt. His fingers brushed scar tissue and a wild stab of panic electrified her.

_Oh fuck. My caesarean scar._

She pushed him away with a gasp and sat back, panting. He was looking at her strangely. Had he felt it, or was he just confused at the sudden rejection?

'Sorry – I'm sorry, I can't.' she stammered. 'I – I don't think I'd - we'd be doing it for the right reasons.'

He did not reply. His expression remained stony.

'If we did – it would be because I want to get back at Jude. And for you, it would be because I remind you of your ex-wife.'

Silence.

'I'm sorry' she said again. 'Maybe there is something between us, but...'

'Timing,' Stoke said abruptly. 'You're right. I understand. It was inappropriate of me – so suddenly...'

'I think I should go back to my husband,' she said, unable to look him in the eye. 'Things will only get worse the longer I stay away.'

'Yes. Of course. If it doesn't work out, you're welcome to return. I won't try anything again, I promise. I just want to make sure you have somewhere you can go.'

'Thank you.' Ellie said. 'Really, I appreciate it.'

He walked her to the door.

'Maybe you could try getting in touch with your ex-wife?' Ellie suggested. 'It's obvious how much you miss her. Maybe she'll give you another chance.'

'I appreciate the sentiment. But I fear it's impossible.'

Ellie opened the door. 'Goodnight, Mr Stoke. Thank you again. And I'm sorry about-'

'It's quite all right. A misunderstanding, that's all. Goodnight Mrs Fawley,' he replied. He watched her until she reached her room and knocked.

Hardy opened it. 'Oh look,back again. And after such a dramatic exit, too!'

'Don't shout at me Jude! I've had enough of shouting for one night.'

She exchanged a final look at Stoke and closed the door.

As soon as it was shut, Hardy dropped the persona of belligerent husband with dizzying speed.

'Are you okay?' he demanded, checking her all over. 'Did he hurt you?'

'I'm fine.' He didn't seem to believe her, for he continued to inspect her, going so far as to brush the hair from her eyes. 'I'm _fine._ '

Hardy clasped one of her hands. With his other hand he cupped the back of her head, pulled her forward and printed a feverish kiss on her forehead.

It was almost disorienting to suddenly find Alec Hardy more affectionate than Jude Fawley.

_No man can resist a damsel, I guess._

'Thank God. That must have been the longest twenty-seven minutes of my life,' he sighed. His forehead lingered against hers. Recollecting himself, he cleared his throat and pulled back. 'So? What happened?'

Ellie held up her phone with a smile. 'I got the money shot.'

She told Hardy all that had transpired, but she left out the detail about the kiss. Nor did she inform him of her worry that he had felt her caesarean scar. She thought it best not to trouble him too much – he seemed distracted enough already.

They sent the picture of the note through to Jenkinson. She responded, saying that they would apply for a search warrant and look through Sally-Anne's house in Portsmouth. She also informed them that Sally-Anne herself had not yet been tracked down, but if she were helping her ex-husband it was likely she was close to him. She sent pictures of Sally-Anne through and told them to to keep a look out.

'Bloody hell, she does look like me,' Ellie remarked as she studied the brown-haired, brown-eyed, smiling woman in the photo. 'Stoke wasn't kidding.'

She squinted a little closer, cataloguing her features.

'She looks so nice. So normal. It's weird to think that she's a drug dealer. There but for the grace of God...'

'We should spend tomorrow tailing Stoke,' Hardy interrupted. 'If Sally-Anne realises the police are after her, she'll tell him, and there's a good chance he'll abscond. Plus, if we stay on him all day we might even find the elusive Sally-Anne herself.'

As they readied for bed, Ellie had to voice her misgiving.

'Something doesn't seem right about all this,' she said uneasily. 'I really felt like Stoke was telling the truth when he said he was estranged from his wife.'

'Then he was lying.'

'No. I'm good at telling when people are lying. This seemed...' she paused. 'Well, he reminded me of you, if I'm being honest. The way you are about Tess. So sad, and wishing you could go back to it. I don't know if he could fake that.'

He did not appreciate the comparison, for he frowned. 'It could be purely convenience,' he pointed out. 'Maybe they're estranged and their relationship is just business now. To tell the truth, we never fully investigated how involved Sally-Anne was in his dealings when they were married. She's something of a mystery.'

'Which would make Sally-Anne the key to solving this thing, then.'

'Looks that way.'

Before they went to bed, Ellie took the time to call PC Bob.

'Just wanted to make sure all was well,' she said. 'No sign of him, right?'

'None,' Bob replied. 'You can rest easy, ma'am. They're safe.'

She chatted with him a bit longer, then thanked him and hung up.

'What was that?' Hardy asked.

'Oh, that was just Bob from the station.'

'I didn't think he was in on this.'

'He's not. It was about something else.'

'Another job?'

Ellie was quiet for a moment. 'I asked Bob to check up on Lucy and the boys while I was gone. Escort Tom and Fred to and from school for me in case Joe...'

She trailed off. Hardy's expression turned to one of horror and he stared at her. 'God, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I didn't even think...'

'It's okay. It's just a precaution.'

His expression was still pained. 'The fact you even have to do that...'

'It's okay, Hardy. Just forget it, I shouldn't have told you.'

He stared at the floor. 'Has he tried anything before?'

'No. I haven't seen him since we banished him. But it's the not knowing that gets to me. Not knowing where he is. Not knowing if he will try to come after us...'

'I'm sorry.'

'Stop apologising.'

Hardy seemed profoundly troubled. He chewed on his lower lip and did not even say goodnight when Ellie turned the light off.

*

Ellie woke from a doze not long afterwards. She could hear strange noises, like someone choking.

Or drowning.

'Hardy?'she murmured. She rubbed her eyes and flicked the light on. 'Hardy!'

He looked like he was having a seizure. In the throes of a nightmare, he was gasping and crying out, jerking slightly from side-to-side.

She touched him. He was burning up. Throwing aside the blankets, she tried to wake him.

'Hardy!' she shook him and stroked the sweaty hair from his eyes, simultaneously trying to remember the moves of CPR while determining whether things were dire enough to require an ambulance.

 _His heart_ , she thought wildly. She pressed a finger to his throat to take his pulse. The jugular hammered against her.

'Christ. Christ! Don't tell me you're fucking dying! Oh God, don’t do this to me you piece of shit! Wake up!’

At her command, he did. His eyes flew open and he sucked in a breath with a terrible gasp. He choked and coughed, then slumped against the pillow, wheezing.

‘Oh, thank goodness. Thank goodness. Hardy. Hardy, are you all right?’

He panted slowly. She was looking at him with concern, still stroking the hair from his face. ‘Mm. Fine. M’fine,’ he muttered.

‘You stopped breathing,’ she said. Her head dropped forward and she shuddered. ‘I thought you were going to die. I thought your heart…’

Her hand found his chest. The fingers splayed over the shape of the pacemaker.

‘M’fine,’ he managed again. ‘M’fine. Just… nightmares.’

She shuffled back and let him sit up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat there unsteadily. She matched his pose. ‘Nightmares?’

‘’Bout Pippa. Dream I’m drowning. And I can’t…’ he paused. ‘They’ve been less frequent since I had the surgery.

‘I think you need to see someone about this,' Ellie said. 'Christ, I thought it was some kind of seizure.'

‘They’re getting better. This is my first in ages. I’ll be fine.’

‘Bullshit you will! _Look_ at what you’ve done to me! I’m shaking all over.’ She held her hands out in front of them to demonstrate the extent of the tremor. ‘If just watching that was enough to scare the living daylights out of me, I can’t even imagine what it must be like for you!’

‘Well, it’s your fault,’ Hardy snapped, rubbing his upper arms. ‘All that stuff with Stoke is what brought it on.’

‘Don’t blame me for this!'

‘It was you I was dreaming about!

‘What?’

‘I kept seeing you. You drowning. And I was drowning. And I couldn’t…’

He buried his face in his hands and hunched over his knees. His lungs shuddered. Stunned, unsure of how to react, Ellie put a hand on his back. When he did not react adversely, she began rubbing in circles.

'Oh Hardy... it's all right. It's all right.'

'No. No, it's not all right. It's not just Stoke, it's everything. Joe – Joe's still out there. He could come after you and the boys. And it's my fault. It's all my fault...'

He seemed to have crumpled in on himself. She couldn't see his face, but she swore she could hear him crying.

'Hardy – Hardy, don't,' she begged, rubbing a little more desperately.

After a minute of gentle soothing, he recovered enough to sit up. He looked at her with red, swollen eyes.

‘I just want you safe, Ellie,’ he said.

‘I am safe.’

‘No you’re not. Joe’s free. It’s driving me mad, thinking that he could come back at any moment…’

She pulled away and covered her ears. ‘Stop. Please stop,’ she begged.

‘… and it’s all my fault. It’s my fault that he -’

‘I said _don't!'_ she cried, leaping to her feet. 'Stop _talking_ about it like that! For God's sake, don't make me your penance. Don't make me into your new Sandbrook!'

She sat back down at his side and took his face in her hands. His beard scratched her palms. 'It's not your fault. Not what happened with Joe, not Sandbrook, and not what Tess did to you. Do you hear me? _It's not your fault_. And if you think I'm going to sit here and listen to you blame yourself...'

'Ellie -'

'So help me Hardy, if you try to argue with me on this I will break your ribs, and you can be the one to tell Daisy why I did it.'

She felt him laugh weakly. She folded him against her, locked her arms around him and held him tight. Tears coursed down her face.

'You're not the guilty one,' she said fiercely. Her voice was slightly shaky, so she steadied it and repeated, 'you are _not_ the guilty one.'

She couldn't tell how long they sat there, holding – no, clinging – to one another, but it seemed like forever. Ellie regulated her breathing and calmed herself down. She felt Hardy sync his breathing to match hers.

Hardy spoke first.

'My heartrate's gone back to normal.'

'I can feel it.'

They broke apart. Ellie slumped back and immediately wiped her eyes. Hardy ran his hand through his hair.

'I'm sorry. Sorry I mentioned Joe,' he muttered. 'I shouldn't have brought him up.'

'Doesn't matter.' She passed her hand over her face and sighed. 'Nightmares. Bloody nightmares. I'm never gonna get back to sleep now.

'Me either,' he shuddered. 'I can never sleep after I have one.'

She could see he was still shaking slightly. He held so many terrible memories within himself that she did not wonder at how easily he drowned in them.

'Hey. You know what always makes me feel better after a bad dream?'

He looked dubious. 'What?'

Ellie grinned and picked up the phone receiver. She pressed a button.

'Ellie,' Hardy admonished. 'No.'

'Yes,' she said.

Some time later, Hardy and Ellie were laying side by side in bed, leisurely eating huge pieces of sticky mud cake. _Finding Nemo_ was playing on the television.

'Thank God for 24 hour room service,' Ellie sighed blissfully. 'How're you feeling?'

Hardy was nibbling his cake, not without enthusiasm. 'I dunno how much good this is doing my heart,' he remarked.

'Chocolate's good for the soul, not the heart.'

He managed to eat half of his before he gave up. Ellie seized happily on the leftover and ate it in three quick bites. She sat back and licked her fingers with relish.

'You're disgusting,' Hardy said.

She flicked crumbs at him.

They watched the movie quietly. A smile played on Hardy's face when the sharks came on the screen.

'I remember watching this movie with Daisy when she was a wee thing,' he said. 'The sharks were her favourite. She used to make me do the voices for her.'

'You can do an Australian accent?'

'No. I think that's why she liked it. Used to laugh herself silly when I tried.'

'Do it for me.'

Hardy frowned. Summoning all his gusto, he said, 'Hello, my name is Bruce.'

Ellie pitched a fit of giggles. 'That was the worst thing I've ever heard!'

'You do it, then.'

Ellie cleared her throat. 'Hello, name is Bruce.'

'You sound like Becca Fisher.'

Ellie looked genuinely affronted. 'How _dare_ you!'

They both attempted the line again. Ellie tried it while pinching her nose, while Hardy went for something of a Steve Irwin impression. They sounded so ridiculous that they collapsed laughing on one another.

'If only Fred could see us now,' Ellie said wistfully.

'This his favourite film?'

'Yeah. Anything to do with the ocean, he loves it. Takes after his granddad like that.'

'Not too much, I hope. Wasn't there something about a curse on the Millers?'

'Curses are made to be broken.'

'You're thinking of rules.'

'And you'd know something about that, wouldn't you?'

'I am a man of the law, you know that.'

'And how many laws did you break investigating Sandbrook on your own?'

'I can't remember. But as I recall, I had a thrifty accomplice.'

They fell quiet after that. Propped up against the pillows, they watched on. Hardy appeared absorbed in the action, but Ellie could not concentrate. Having him near her like this made her ache.

Her hand crept across the bed and lingered close to his. Should she touch him? Would he understand her meaning if she did? Her foot slipped across. She could feel the warmth of him under the covers.

_What if I just kissed him?_

It would be hard to miss _that_ signal. But no, it would be better to take his hand. It was a less extreme option, and he could easily pull away if he were uncomfortable.

She reached out again. Her fingers were a hair's breadth from brushing his...

But she stopped.

 _I can't,_ she thought ruefully. _It wouldn't be right. Not after he's just had a nightmare of a seizure or whatever that was. We're both in a vulnerable place. It would be taking advantage._

She withdrew at a snail's pace and turned back to the movie.

After a little while Hardy slumped gently against her. His head brushed her shoulder, and she realised he was asleep.

His breathing rate was normal. He looked peaceful. Very carefully, she turned the volume down on the television. The movement made him slump even further until he was resting entirely on her shoulder.

Time moved in heartbeats. Slowly, Ellie put her arm around him and eased him over until his head was pillowed against her chest. He did not stir. With a wistful smile she played with his dark hair and kissed the top of his head.

'You really are hopeless,' she murmured.

Hardy made a soft purring noise in his sleep.

_To think I went and fell in love with you._

Her eyes began to itch with tiredness soon after. She turned the television off and gently extricated herself from Hardy to turn the light off.

'Goodnight, Alec,' she murmured as she slipped back into bed.

Now sleeping peacefully, he did not reply.

 


	5. Day Five

There was something warm in Ellie's arms when she woke up. Opening her eyes blearily, she was embarrassed to find herself spooning Hardy. She was hugging him fiercely, and even had one leg around him.

_Well. Now the shoe is on the other foot. Or the spoon is on the other spoon._

Thinking he was still asleep, she extricated herself slowly, but he reached up and grabbed her hand.

'I'm sorry, I didn't -' she began.

'Mm. Warm,' he mumbled. 'Like it.'

She settled back down cautiously.

'Like it when you...' he broke off with a snuffle and she suspected he was not fully awake. 'Mm. Like you.'

'Well, now I know you're dreaming,' she smiled. She wrapped him up again and snuggled him.

He relaxed, drifting off almost immediately. Ellie allowed herself to enjoy the sensation of holding him like this – the weight of him, the way his ribs expanded and contracted with each gentle breath, the rushing of his veins, the smell of him...

It was as though the two of them had skipped the coital and moved straight to the post-coital.

Privately, she felt a little cheated.

Once she was sure he was deep asleep, she got up and had a shower. When she emerged, Hardy was awake and looking through some papers.

'Keep an eye on the door while I shower,' he commanded. 'Stoke should be up soon. We have to stay on him all day. Jenkinson's orders.'

He swept past her into the bathroom. Just like that, back to his gruff detective self, all vulnerability forgotten.

They decided it would be too embarrassing if Ellie – or rather Sue – saw Stoke again, so they tailed him surreptitiously, careful both not to lose him and not to let him see them, while remaining as nonchalant and casual as possible. It was a dangerous game, but with the net closing around Stoke and Sally-Anne, they had to make sure he didn't escape at the last second.

Stoke appeared to be having quite a normal, leisurely day. He breakfasted for an hour, then walked around Budmouth, visiting various sites and landmarks. After a time, he went down to the docks, where he found the harbour master and spoke to him at length.

'I wonder what they're talking about?' Ellie mused as she discreetly photographed them while pretending to photograph Hardy.

Hardy had a big, gaping smile plastered on his face. He spoke through his teeth while she got the shots. 'It must be important, whatever it is.'

'You don't just go up to the harbour master for a chat,' Ellie agreed.

A few other people working on the docks came over to speak to Stoke. Hardy held his awkward pose while she photographed them as well.

He shook the harbour master's hand and left. Wandering out, he came to the maritime history museum and went inside. Hardy and Ellie went to the cafe opposite and watched it as they sipped coffee.

'He mentioned this place to us,' Ellie said. 'Recommended it, in fact. Think that's significant?'

'On a case like this, everything is.'

An hour passed before he emerged. Trying not to appear in too much of a hurry, Ellie and Hardy paid and departed the cafe.

Stoke went for a walk along the coast. They hung back as much as they could to ensure that he would not recognise them if he looked back, while keeping him squarely in their sights.

The coastal path was lush and verdant, pulsing with birds and butterflies. Flowers nodded at their heels and the ocean tumbled and crashed against the pebbly slope at their side. They ambled along, nodding and smiling at the people they passed.

Even with Stoke so close, Ellie couldn't help enjoying the walk. Hardy seemed to relax a little, too. He started picking wildflowers. Ragged-robins, campions, harebells, daisies and sea pink were all jumbled together into a little bouquet. Taking long strands of grass, he plaited them together into a rope and secured the flowers with it.

'For you,' he said, handing them to Ellie.

Touched, she took the flowers and admired them. 'Thank you. Daisies are my favourite.'

He hummed happily. 'Mine too.'

They continued to walk along, and followed Stoke when he meandered down to the pebbly beach. Ellie stooped and picked up a smooth, slightly pink rock that was shaped like a heart.

'For you,' she said, handing it to Hardy.

'I think my gift was more romantic,' Hardy remarked. He took the rock anyway.

'You wish. Flowers are pretty, but they wither and die. A rock, on the other hand,' she clenched her fist. 'A rock is forever. Like my love for you.'

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. Clasping her hand so that the heart-shaped pebble rested between their palms, he paused and plucked a sea pink cluster from her bouquet. Twirling the stem between thumb and forefinger, he gently placed it behind her ear and smoothed her hair around it.

'My beautiful wife,' he said fondly.

With the wind caressing them and the sea murmuring in their ears and Ellie smiling up at him so prettily, it was the perfect moment to kiss her.

So he did.

He leaned forward without hesitation, and with easy familiarity he printed a warm, chaste kiss on her lips. Ellie yielded to it willingly, so, so willingly, and closed her eyes the moment his mouth brushed hers. He tried to pull away after a few seconds but she stopped him by squeezing his hand. With her other hand gripping his little bouquet between pinky and ring finger, she used her thumb and forefingers to seize his arm by the bicep and pull him forward.

He made a low sound of surprise but did not fight her. When she swept her tongue inside his mouth he seemed to lose his inhibitions and kissed her firmly in return. He fastened his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Their mouths melded.

It was everything she had wanted. And yet...

 _Who are you kissing?_ She desperately wanted to ask.  _Sue Fawley or Ellie Miller?_

Or Tess Henchard?

She pulled away. He opened his eyes and stared at her, searching for answers. 'Come on,' she said with false cheer, and they walked on as if nothing had happened.

But she couldn't help stewing slightly. Stoke had wanted her because she reminded him of his ex-wife. Was it possible that the same was true of Hardy? She looked a little like Tess. She was his DS like Tess. She danced with him like Tess. He was protective of her like Tess. She was his undercover partner like Tess. She was his wife like Tess – or pretending to be.

And, by his own admission, she was not as good as Tess.

Thrown into a sudden bad mood, she responded monosyllabically to Hardy's questions and did not smile when he crowned her with a daisy chain.

*

At about eight o'clock, Stoke dined at a seafood restaurant in the centre of Budmouth. Ellie and Hardy went to the pub across the street to watch him. The best vantage point was on a small couch by the window, which was set up to allow patrons to watch the live band playing in the corner. It was crowded in this space; Hardy managed to seize a seat, but there was no room for Ellie. He solved the problem by pulling her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her middle and holding her there securely. They stayed thus for some time, swaying in time to the beat, Hardy's chin upon her shoulder, ostensibly entranced by the music, but with their eyes surreptitiously glued on the restaurant opposite.

Slightly flushed by the whole experience, Ellie tried to ignore the subtle prickle of his beard against her skin, or the pressure of his fingertips against her belly. 

Stoke eventually came out of the restaurant. It was dark and drizzling, so he opened a black umbrella. Deceived by the beautiful, sunny weather earlier, neither Hardy nor Ellie had been so shrewd as to pack one for themselves. Ellie was in a dress, and she shivered in the rain.

'Here,' Hardy murmured, draping his jacket around her shoulders. It settled heavily upon her, still warm and smelling of the pub – and of him.

'Thank you,' she replied, wondering at how such a simple gesture could leave her so compromised.

He put his arm around her shoulders as a further shield from the inclement weather and they followed Stoke's footsteps back to the hotel. Their target greeted the receptionist warmly when he went inside, then got in the elevator, alighted on the highest floor, stepped into his room and sealed himself inside.

Ellie and Hardy returned to their own room.

Still feeling a little hot and dizzy, Ellie covered this up by complaining, 'well that was a waste of time.' She slumped on the bed, kicked her shoes off and threw the wet jacket onto a chair.

Hardy checked in with Jenkinson. 'They searched Sally-Anne's house. It hasn't been lived in for a while. No traces of illicit substances, no clues as to where she might be.'

'All in all, a dud day.'

'Looks that way.'

He sat next to her on the bed and unlaced his shoes. She frowned. 'Something's bugging me about this Sally-Anne thing,' she said.

'“Go and see Sally-Anne in a few days and it will all be waiting.” Surely that means she does the delivery? He does business, she delivers?'

'She does the legwork while Stoke gets to live it up at a five star resort. Bloody typical.'

Ellie went into the bathroom to change. She took the clips from her hair and teased out her damp curls with her fingers. She was wearing her wedding cake sundress, and to her consternation, the zip got stuck when she tried to take it off.

'Bloody _typical_ ,' she said with vehemence. She knocked. 'Are you decent?'

He grunted. She opened the door and saw he was already in his pyjama bottoms and grey t-shirt. He was messaging Jenkinson. 'I need you.' She turned around and pointed at the zip.

He put the phone down and crossed to her. 'This is really stuck fast,' he remarked as he tugged at it.

'Yet another reason why dresses are a bad idea.'

He heaved, but it did not budge. 'Who the hell invented these invisible zips anyway?' he complained. 'Why hide a zip?'

He paused to inspect it closely. 'It's all caught up in the fabric. Let me see if I can...'

He tried to prise the fabric free. After about a minute he grew frustrated and gave up. 'I think I'm gonna have to cut you out.'

'Good,' she replied. 'Cut it to shreds. Burn the damn thing when you're done. I never want to see this monstrosity again.'

He retrieved a pair of nail scissors. 'Don't move,' he warned. 'I don't want to hurt you.'

It was a delicate operation. The nail scissors were tiny and blunt and woefully inadequate, but Hardy had determination on his side.

It gave Ellie ample time to think. She was holding her hair out of the way with one hand. The other settled on her hip, and she looked thoughtfully off to the side.

'Hardy,' she murmured.

'Mm?'

'Why did you kiss me today?'

The fabric came free with a sudden lurch. 'That's got it,' he declared. He quickly went and put the scissors down before returning to her side. 'Now let's see if we can...'

'You didn't answer my question,' Ellie said as he pulled the zip down. 'Why did you kiss me on the beach today? There was no-one in sight. No reason to play at husband and wife.'

She did not turn around to look at him. He remained standing behind her, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck. She could almost hear the excuses he was about to pour out – _better safe than sorry, just making sure, want to be convincing as possible, never know who's watching..._

But instead, he did a remarkable thing.

He told the truth.

'I wanted to.'

'You wanted to kiss me.'

The zip reached the bottom.

'Yes.'

'Me,' she said, 'not Sue?'

_Or Tess?_

'Yes.'

He placed his hands on her shoulders. She sucked in a sharp breath and trembled. His hands were so warm.

'Why did you kiss me back?' he rumbled.

Ellie stared at the ground. He kneaded small circles on the exposed skin of her back with his thumbs and took a step forward, closing the last few inches between them.

'Because...' Ellie murmured. She paused and shivered under his touch, too obviously for him to miss. He smoothed his fingers over her neck and let the tips linger there, fascinated by the fluttering pulse he found. 'I liked it.'

'You liked it,' he echoed. One arm settled on her waist. He leaned forward and kissed her neck. She turned her head almost involuntarily to grant him better access and closed her eyes. He ran his fingertips up and down her arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and brushed her fake wedding ring, the ring he had supposedly placed on her finger when he'd vowed to love and honour her forever. He found the large diamond at its centre and pressed his thumb against it.

Kissing down her neck, he swept the gaping dress to one side to expose her shoulder. He drew circles on the freckles he found with the tip of his tongue, swirling and sucking the soft skin. Water dripped from her damp hair onto her shoulder; he swept the droplets away with his mouth.

'Do you like this?' he murmured.

She couldn't stand it any longer. Her eyes snapped open and she turned around. They exchanged one quick, fateful glance, through which a thousand things were communicated, then she threw her arms around his neck and he pulled her into a kiss. Forgetting all doubts, she surrendered to the present – to his warm mouth and clever tongue and the scratch of his whiskers against her lips. She tangled her hands in his damp hair and tugged hard.

Growling in response, he bit her lower lip and swiftly pinned her against the wall. With the back of her dress gaping open, he was able to pull it off in one swift motion. It fell to the floor and she kicked it away. Now in only her bra and knickers, she felt supremely vulnerable beneath his strong hands.

Oh God, how she'd wanted this.

'They're going to laugh at us back at the station,' she groaned as she rucked up his shirt and pulled it over his head.

'Good,' was his response as he tasted the milky skin of her neck and clavicle. He nipped her throat and she gasped. His fingers fumbled at the clasp of her bra and she realised he was trembling too.

'Here... here, let me.' She quickly unhooked it. He tossed it away, then grasped her breasts in his hands, fondling and squeezing. The hot  _want_  that was coiled inside her belly turned to desperate need at that, and she almost cried out when he pinched and rolled a dusky nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He quickly soothed the rough touch with a languid swirl of his tongue, sucking one nipple, then the other, before he let go with a pop and kissed his way back up her chest and neck.

They tottered to the bed, knocking a lamp over in the process. Hardy pressed his lean, hard weight upon her and ground his hand against the front of her pants. But even with her so pliant and yielding, so  _willing,_ he had to pause for reassurance, as if he could not quite comprehend what was happening.

'Ellie,' he began. 'Ellie, are you sure you want -'

'Yes,' she groaned, quickly shuffling out of her knickers and kicking them aside. 'Yes.' She took his hand and guided it upward.  _'Yes.'_

He didn't need much more encouragement after that. He ran his hand up the smooth inner curve of her thigh and played with her entrance. She was embarrassingly wet and she twitched and clenched when he experimentally slid one finger inside her, then another, smoothing the slickness around her clit before plunging inside her again. He rocked in and out slowly, getting used to the feel of her, then bent his fingers in a crooking motion so that her back arched.

He watched her adoringly, almost in disbelief as she moved beneath his touch. His movements were still exploratory, but he gained in confidence with each gasp he won. His quick, clever fingers danced in time to her breaths. At the addition of a third finger she moaned piteously.

'Do you have any idea how crazy you've driven me these past few days?' he said as he kissed her breasts. His whiskers scraped across her sensitive nipples, making her writhe.

'Like you can talk,' she replied, wriggling free and shoving her hand down his trousers. 'Constantly touching me. Spooning me, with your great big...'

She wrapped her hand around his cock and he shuddered.

'Ah – _ahh_ – ' he began. 'That was – an accident.'

'Like kissing me today was an accident?'

She tugged his trousers down. He kicked them off and she flipped him onto his back.

'N-no – that was – oh  _fuck,_ Ellie...' he groaned as she took the head of his cock in her mouth.

She kissed and sucked the tip, then ran her tongue up and down his considerable length until he was completely hard and throbbing against her, his breath coming in strangled gasps. She'd fantasised about this, having him so helpless - speechless - against her. For a moment she considered finishing him off with her mouth.

But there was something else she wanted more.

Sitting up, she stroked deftly with her fingers and straddled his lap. He watched her intently, his chest heaving slightly as she guided him inside herself. She struggled a little to accommodate his girth and only made it halfway before she winced and had to withdraw. She tried again, slowly inching her way further down, until, unable to bear it, Hardy let out a ferocious growl, gripped her buttocks with both hands and with one sharp twist of his hips buried himself up to the hilt.

A drawn-out, anguished cry escaped her and she scrabbled at him with both hands, her fingers leaving long scratches across his back as she clawed for purchase. The muscles twitched and spasmed in protest, her insides fluttering helplessly at the feel of him, the length, the girth, the  _heat._ Trying to get hold of her breathing, she dragged herself upwards, almost until she reached the tip, and came down hard again.

Hardy fixed one arm around her, lifting and guiding her as she fucked him, his other hand roughly fondling her breasts and soft belly and sweeping her hair aside as he possessively sucked her neck and bit down on her collarbone, leaving hickeys and bruises in his wake. As she gained in speed, her thighs ached in protest and she gripped him hard for support.

One of her hands wandered down to her clitoris and started stroking. He brushed her out of the way and fumbled there, a small crease forming between his brows. She guided him to the right spot and her back arched violently when he applied a particularly dexterous move there. With a slow, deep, grinding thrust upwards he repeated the move. She dug her fingernails into his back, hard enough to leave a mark.

'Oh, you _like_  that,' he purred, sounding unbearably smug.

She almost wanted to say no, just to prove him wrong, but she was too dizzy, too drunk on his touch, too utterly besotted with the smell, taste, touch of him to lie. 'Yes,' she whimpered. 'Oh... please - _oh.._.'

Her mouth dropped open at his persistent stroking and her breathing became ragged. He took advantage of this to kiss her fiercely, his tongue probing inside her and sweeping around her soft lips. She squirmed and twisted on his cock, desperate for just a little more friction, and broke the kiss to gasp for air, pressing her forehead against his.

And then, with one more sweep of his fingers and one fatal, deep thrust she came hard around him. He crooned to her, his lips brushing the curve of her ear as he rode it out with her.

In the aftershock, her thighs were trembling too badly for her to keep up the pace. Hooking a hand under her arse, Hardy flipped her over and thrust hard inside of her. His hand went to her clitoris again, but she stopped him.

'Don't worry... about me now,' she managed. 'Want you... want you to come.'

He almost seemed confused by the command to think only of his own pleasure, but he obliged. Taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers, he changed the angle and went hard and rough.

Ellie lifted her hips to meet each thrust, following his lead. She wasn't going to come again, but this was nice. Just having him move inside of her, being able to get used to the delicious feel and size of him, just being  _with_  him was enough.

He came not long after with a hoarse groan. 'Oh,  _love...'_ he whispered, and at the appellation a sudden dread seized Ellie and she grew stiff as he shuddered through it. A terrible sense of foreboding gripped her, and when he tried to roll off, she stopped him, knowing that once it was over she would have to face up to what she had just heard. With his softening cock still inside her, she clutched him desperately, unwilling to let him go. One hand was tangled in his hair and she gently massaged his scalp with her fingertips, her eyes prickling. Trembling, Hardy raised his head to look at her. His gaze was impossibly tender.

His phone started to ring, stridently loud. The two of them winced. Hardy rolled off to clutch at it, and at once stark reality came crashing down on Ellie. Almost shell-shocked, she lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

_Love. He called me love. The name of his wife. The name of..._

Her.

'Hello?' Hardy said, trying to keep his breathing regular. 'Yeah. Yeah, sorry, I was about to send them through but – something came. Up. Something came up. Uh-huh. Yeah, I'll do that now. Any word on Sally-Anne?'

While Hardy talked, Ellie quietly slipped into the bathroom, her eyes rapidly moistening. He glanced at her as she left but remained fixed on the phone call.

The call ended. 'Ellie?' he said.

The bathroom door was closed.

'Ellie, are you – um – is everything okay?'

There was a fateful pause.

'I'm not your wife,' came the muffled reply.

'What?'

'I'm not your wife,' she repeated.

'I know,' Hardy ventured. 'Ellie, why are you saying that?'

There was no further correspondence from behind the door. Hardy tried the handle but it was locked. Not knowing what else to do, he sat down, his back propped against it.

Ellie heard him slump against the door. Her own pose mirrored his, though her knees were drawn up to her chest.

'I'm sorry,' he said, sounding bitterly disappointed. 'I guess we shouldn't have – but with both of us divorced – tensions have been high.'

'Yes,' she replied, a note of tragedy in her voice.

'Just because we – it doesn't mean anything has to come of it,' he continued.

Ellie was filled with a terrible sense of deja vu. She remembered her previous boss from years ago, from before she'd even met Joe. She'd been hopelessly in love with him, had wanted to marry him – but he already had a wife, and she was just his junior. He never gave her much of a second glance before his last day. It was as though history was repeating itself – here she was, hopelessly in love, privately willing to marry her boss – but he was still in love with his wife.

She couldn't believe how much it hurt.

And it also made her angry.

'Why did you fuck me, then?' she demanded.

'I'm sorry?'

She wiped her eyes. 'Why did you fuck me if you didn't want anything more? Am I like Becca Fisher? Or is it really just so you can pretend I'm Tess?'

'What?' he repeated. He couldn't quite keep up with her train of thought. 'No, that's not – '

'You called me 'love' while you were fucking me,' she accused. 'Your pet name for  _her.'_

'Ellie, you're -' he paused and she heard him stand up. He tried the handle again. 'I can't talk to you like this. Please open the door.'

Ellie groaned and pulled her hair. How could she explain it? How could she explain that she'd only ever been able to enjoy sex when she was in love? That she'd never been able to have casual sex? That it was ripping her in half to know she'd fucked him because she loved him, while he...

'God, you're just as bad as Stoke!' she shouted.

A dangerous silence followed. 'What did you say?'

'He only wanted me because I reminded him of his wife. And you did the same thing!'

'Don't compare me to him.'

'Why not? It's true. You're in love with Tess, and you fucked me because I was available and I looked like her. Pretending all this time, all these past few days that I'm  _her._ '

Her words stung. 'Oh, like you haven't been pretending I'm your perfect husband, Joe,' he retorted. 'Deluding yourself that I'm him, before it all went to shit.'

'Don't you fucking  _dare_ bring him up!' she shouted. 'I feel  _nothing_ for him! Unlike you, I know when to let someone go!'

There was a sharp intake of breath, and a slow exhale. 'Is there something you'd like to say about Tess?'

'Yes. She's an adulterer who cheated on her husband for three years, did  _nothing_ when he disgraced himself, separated him from his daughter and gave him a heart condition. Fuck you for saying I'm not as good as her. And you're a fucking idiot for ever wanting her!'

'Yeah? Well at least I didn't marry a paedophile.'

The words fell like a hammer blow. Hardy winced, and it was plain he regretted the statement the instant it left his mouth.

'No – that came out wrong -'

The bathroom door slammed open. Ellie was in floods of tears.

'Ellie,' Hardy gripped the bridge of his nose and rubbed his eyes. 'Ellie... I'm sorry. That was – I didn't mean it.'

She ignored him and bustled past to retrieve her clothes. 'I can't talk to you.'

She pulled on her knickers and trousers, then roughly threw on a t-shirt and coat. Then she fumbled with her shoes.

'Ellie, what are you doing?'

'I'm going out.'

'Where?'

_'Out.'_

'It's too dangerous to go anywhere alone,' he said. She bustled towards the door but he barred her way. 'El, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean what I said. Just sit down, let me explain. You know I'm not good with words.'

'Get out of the way.'

'El...' he touched her shoulder. She jumped backwards as if stung.

' _Don't_ touch me. Don't you ever fucking touch me again.'

'El -'

She put her hands over her ears. 'And don't call me that! You don't get to call me that!'

She shoved past him and out the door. He went to call after her, but bit down on the word. 'Sue! Sue, come back!'

Dressed in only his trousers, he could not follow. She hammered on the elevator button while he ducked back inside to get his clothes.

The elevator came. She got inside and took it to reception, where she dashed, red-faced and crying, past the receptionist. Whispers of hotel staff followed her.

_'Look, they must've had another fight.'_

_'Such a weird couple...'_

_'One minute they're shagging in cupboards, the next they're arguing fit to raise the roof.'_

Her cheeks burning, she ignored them and ran outside. The night was cool, and the briny smell of the sea revived her somewhat. She followed the path down to Budmouth harbour.

It was dark and practically deserted by the docks. She lingered here for a while, breathing hard, trying to get her emotions under control. Anger, sadness and humiliation were at war inside her. Every step brought another truth crashing down. She loved Hardy, but Hardy loved Tess. He'd fucked her because she reminded him of her. She was nothing more than a cheap substitute, an easy lay, like Becca fucking Fisher.

It hurt her profoundly to know that Tess had cheated on him for three years, and yet was still preferable to herself. But why should she blame him? He was right. She'd married a paedophile, had children with a paedophile, and was now haunted by a paedophile and a murderer. How could she possibly ask anyone to love her back?

As she stood still she could feel something warm dripping down her leg. Leaning her elbows upon the railing that separated her from the water, she placed her head in her hands and started laughing.

_After all that we didn't even use protection. God, wouldn't it just be the icing on the fucked-up cake if he got me pregnant._

A part of her had fantasised about married life with Hardy – had even, timidly, bashfully, secretively, almost behind her back, thought about the possibility of having another child.

Hiccoughing, she stood up straight and gripped the railing hard, staring at the waves lapping at the stones.

_Stupid. So fucking stupid._

She became aware of a pressure on her finger. She glanced down and realised she was still wearing her fake wedding ring.

She held up her hand and studied it for a few seconds. Then with a growl of anger she ripped it off and hurled it into the water. It sank with a plop.

‘Good fucking riddance.'

‘Mrs Fawley?’ a gentle voice said.

Ellie turned. ‘Oh!’ she exclaimed. ‘Oh, Mr. Stoke, I didn’t realise you were there.’ She hastily wiped the tears from her face.

_He must have gone out while we were... God, what a pair of detectives we are._

Stoke had his hands in his coat pockets. He was alone. ‘I thought I’d go out for a walk, now that it's stopped raining. It’s lovely in Budmouth this time of night.’

He tilted his head to one side.

'I take it you've had another fight with your husband.'

‘Yes,’ she sighed. ‘I think it’s over this time. Why I even thought we’d work out in the first place…’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Are you?’

‘Well. I know how painful breakups can be.’ He regarded her for a moment. Her face was streaked with tears, and she knew she looked frightful. ‘Would you like to walk with me? The ocean air might do you some good.’

‘Yeah,’ Ellie agreed, wiping her eyes and thinking that if she could talk something out of Stoke then at least the evening wouldn't be a total disaster.

They meandered along the different piers and came to a part Ellie had not seen before.

'I don't think I've been here,' she remarked. 'Jude and I walked all around the docks but I don't remember this.'

'This is a private part of the harbour,' Stoke replied. 'Only a few people are granted moorings here.'

She wondered how they could have missed it. 'Must be for rich people,' she commented. 'Look at the size of these things!'

'They are rather large. Have you ever considered getting a boat yourself?'

'Yeah. I'd love a little sailboat. Jude's not overly fond of the water, though, so I was never able to justify the expense.'

'And now you are free to do as you wish.'

'Yeah,' she agreed gloomily. 'Yeah, I guess I am.'

'I could help you choose one. I'm something of a sailor myself. New to the trade, still, but I've learned a lot.'

Stoke paused alongside a medium-sized cabin cruiser. Ellie stopped dead when she saw it.

'Do you like her?' Stoke asked, smiling at the white boat. 'She's mine.'

Ellie blinked. There, painted on the side of the boat, was the name  _Sally-Anne._

'Sally-Anne,' Ellie blurted. 'You named your boat after your wife?'

He looked sharply at her. 'I did,' he replied. 'She was a gift for my dear wife. But now that we've broken up, she's mine.'

Ellie could not quite believe what she was seeing. And yet suddenly, everything made sense.

_Hardy. I have to find Hardy._

'I think – I'm sorry, but I think I might head back now. I – uh, I just remembered I need to...'

'Leaving me so soon? That's hardly fair.'

'I know, sorry, but I just -'

She tried to walk past him but he barred her way. He was blocking her only escape route.

'Peter, what are you -'

'Lift up your shirt,' he commanded.

'What? No. Let me past.'

'Do as I say.'

'Or what?' she challenged.

Stoke pulled a small gun from his pocket. Ellie took a step backwards.

'For the third time,' he pronounced coldly, 'lift up your shirt.'

A tiny tremble took hold of Ellie's hands. Her teeth chattered as she obeyed, lifting the shirt up to her ribcage.

'Stop there. Pull the front of your trousers down.'

'Peter – Peter, please,' she begged. 'Whatever this is about -'

'Do it.'

She did, tugging her trousers to uncover her whole abdomen. Her caesarean scar, all knotty white and pink tissue, was exposed.

'How did you get that scar?'

Ellie began to cry. Her teeth knocked violently together. 'It was an emergency caesarean. From my relationship before Jude. The – the baby, he was only six months. He – he didn't make it.' She burst into a fresh flood of tears. 'It's why I'm scared of trying again for a family. Peter, please – I don't understand what this is about. If it's money you want, Jude can -'

'A convincing story. At least it would be if I hadn't already found your children.'

Ellie froze. The tears seemed to solidify. 'What?'

'You heard me. I found them. And I have them.'

The mask dropped. 'You  _bastard!_ ' she shrieked. 'What have you done with them? 'I swear to God, if you've hurt them I will  _kill_ you!'

Stoke started laughing. 'Ah, and at last you're being honest with me! So I'll be honest with you. I don't have your children. I wasn't even sure if you had children until you told me just now. It was a gamble, but - mother's instinct. You can always count on it.'

In spite of her own peril, Ellie felt nothing but relief in that instant. For the last few months she'd lived in constant fear of her boys being taken from her. At Stoke's words, her worst nightmare had come true – and then been swept away the next second. It was almost too much to bear.

'I have suspected for some time that you may not be what you appear,' Stoke said. 'I have an excellent sense of smell, you know. I caught a hint of lavender when I was conducting business with a gentleman, and I caught it again when I saw you at dinner that evening. Then the all-too-convenient chance meetings. The feel of that scar. I tried to reason that it could be from any number of things, but then...'

He gestured to the boat. 'You gave yourself away. I never told you my wife's name was Sally-Anne.'

Frightened, humiliated, all Ellie could do was ask, 'but my boys – my boys, they're safe? You promise you haven't got them?'

'Of course not. I don't hurt children. I prefer not to hurt women either, but sometimes,' he looked hard at her and breathed a deep, regretful sigh, 'I am forced to do so.'

Ellie was filled with a terrible certainty that Sally-Anne was dead. Looking down the barrel of a gun – something she'd never done before - she understood that she was next. She covered her mouth with her hand and sank to her knees. All her thoughts were of Fred and Tom.

Stoke watched her fall impassively. 'What I don't understand,' he went on, 'is your relationship with Jude, or whatever his real name is.'

She was silent.

'Would you like to tell me?'

'He's my partner,' Ellie said sullenly. 'That should be obvious.'

'That much is, but typically detective partners don't fuck each other.'

He took a step forward.

‘I can smell him on you.’ He knelt next to her, his lip curling. ‘You  _reek_ of sex.’

Ellie had to look away. She stared hard at a puddle on the pier and tried to stop hyperventilating.

'Is he your real husband? The father of your children?'

She did not reply.

'There really is no point being dishonest with me now,' Stoke sighed. He gestured subtly with the gun. 'Come. Tell me.'

Her mouth moved.

'What was that?'

'No.'

'No? Then are you having an affair with him?'

'No.'

Stoke rocked back on his heels. He exhaled through his nose, ruffling his moustache hairs. 'Your lover?'

'No.'

'What, then? Your boyfriend? Friends with benefits? Fiancee? What is he to you?'

'I don't know.'

A puzzled frown settled on Stoke's countenance. He tried a different tactic. 'Do you love him?'

Her bottom lip trembled. 'Yes.'

'Does he love you?'

'No.'

'What a mystery this is,' Stoke mused as a sob racked her. He smoothed his fingers over his moustache, then stood. 'Get up,' he said, motioning with the gun.

She rose on trembling legs.

'Take the phone from your pocket and throw it in the water.' 'When this was done, he said, 'turn around.'

She obeyed.

'If you struggle, if you try to fight me, if you make so much as a sound,' he said, 'I will kill you. Do you understand?'

She nodded.

'Good.'

She heard noises behind her, but while she had her back to him she could not judge what he was doing or weigh up her chances if she went for his gun.

'Put your hands behind your back.'

She did.

He tied her up quickly. She could tell he was using a thin, synthetic bowline. It cut into her wrists as he tightened it.

That done, Stoke prepared the  _Sally-Anne._ 'Get on.'

Boarding with her hands tied was no mean feat, but she managed it. Stoke threw off the mooring lines, started the engine, and with a flick of the wrist sent them off into the ocean. The boat bumped against the pier and rocked violently as it disembarked.

Far off in the distance, a herring gull in search of its mate let out a piteous cry.

*

Stoke went at a leisurely pace, obviously not wishing to appear as if he were in a hurry. They headed straight out into the water. The sea was smooth and calm, but it became choppier the further out they got. In the cabin with him, looking out at the inky waves, Ellie was sheltered from the wind, but she could feel how cold it was.

She stood facing Stoke. She couldn't fight him for the gun with her hands tied, but if she could just get loose...

She strained. Stoke was an inexperienced seaman, she knew it, and his knotwork left something to be desired. She could hear her father's admonishing voice in her ear already.

Her father. Her heart ached to think of him. Captain Frederick Miller. He'd served twelve years in Her Majesty's Royal Navy before he'd married, returned home to Broadchurch to raise his family, and taken up a number of jobs in tourism, sailing antique wooden crafts and modern fishing boats alike.

 _Come on, El,_ she could hear him saying.  _You have to make the lines fast. If you don't secure her properly, then you'll put the whole crew at risk._

She heaved and strained as subtly as she could. Frederick Miller's daughter wasn't about to be bound by some lubber.

But then again, Frederick Miller's daughter had a curse on her head.

'Where are we going?' she asked.

'Far away from Budmouth.' He eased off the throttle a touch. 'It's time I moved on.'

It dawned on Ellie how Stoke had been able to elude them all this time. He transported all the merchandise by sea, dealt out of his moorings, and when scrutiny grew too intense he weighed anchor and left. The boat – a gift to his wife – was registered in her name, and if his talks with the harbour master today suggested anything, it was that he simply bribed anyone who might think to question him.

It was so simple she almost couldn't believe it.

'Tell me one thing,' Ellie said, continuing to flex and strain. 'Your wife, Sally-Anne – is she alive?'

He fixed his gaze on the water and said nothing.

'There's no point being dishonest now,' Ellie prompted.

He sighed. 'She's dead.'

'Did you kill her?'

Sorrow clouded his features. 'Yes. I didn't want to, but she forced my hand.'

'Forced your hand?' Ellie echoed. 'How could a woman possibly force her husband to kill her?'

'She could betray me. Fuck another man. Have an affair behind my back.'

Ellie grew still.

'I never found out until after the divorce. I tried my utmost to win her back, and then she told me. She wasn't with him anymore. She said she was unhappy in our marriage and that she'd cheated to fill the void, until she decided it would be better to just leave me.'

He eased off on the throttle again and the roar of the engine dulled a little.

'I truly loved that woman,' he said. 'And she broke my heart into a thousand pieces. Even after she told me that I was prepared to forgive her. Prepared to take her back. But she told me if I did not stop harassing her, she would turn me over to the police. After an argument, it was clear she was intending to do just that. I stopped her.'

'You killed her.'

'Yes. I tied her up, took her out to sea and threw her in the ocean to drown. Which is what I'm going to do to you,' he added.

He looked at her. Ellie took a tiny step backwards.

'Not a day goes by that I don't think about my Sally-Anne,' he said ruefully. 'I keep thinking that if I had had my time over, I would do things differently. And yet here I am with you – you, who look so like her that it hurts - about to do it all over again.'

'If you kill me, you know that will be the end for you,' Ellie said. 'Jude – Jude will know it was you. If I go missing, the police will know who to blame.'

'True, Jude will know,' he admitted. 'Fortunately, I have a solid alibi. I checked out of my hotel this morning and checked into resort in Sandbourne four hours ago. I have plenty of eyewitnesses to vouch for me, too.' He smiled. 'It's amazing what people will do for you if you ask nicely. And pay the right amount. Besides, without your body there'll be nothing to prosecute.'

Ellie struggled a little more desperately against her bonds.

'I suppose they'll wonder what happened to you. Wonder where you disappeared to. Perhaps they'll say you drowned yourself for love.'

He eased off the throttle. Once it was idling, he shut off the engine and motioned Ellie outside. She stood on the deck and shivered in the cold.

'Now,' Stoke said, sitting against the railing and watching her closely. 'Before we do this, there are a few things I would like to know. Number one – what is your real name?'

Ellie kept her mouth shut.

Stoke sighed. 'There are eight bullets in this gun. Think carefully on how many you would like inside your body before I kill you.'

'Ellie Miller.'

'Good. Your CS's name?'

'Jenkinson.'

He asked her a few more questions about how much they knew and what information they'd gathered. Ellie hated giving him the answers, but she could feel the rope starting to slip. If she could just keep him talking a little longer...

'Finally,' Stoke said. 'What is your partner's name?'

Ellie hesitated.

Stoke lowered the gun and aimed it at her knee. 'Jude's name. Now.'

'Brian,' Ellie blurted. 'His name is Brian Young. Wessex Police.'

'Brian? Hm. I liked Jude better.'

'You won't hurt him, will you?' Ellie asked desperately.

'If he comes after me, I will. Ideally, I'd like to never see him again. Such an unpleasant man. I don't understand your taste, if I'm honest.'

He stood up abruptly.

'Now,' he said, 'because I am a gentleman, I will give you a choice. Do you want me to shoot you before I throw you overboard? Or would you rather drown?'

She held her head up high. 'Drown.'

_If I'm going to die, let me die like a Miller._

'Very well.'

He kicked the gangway open.

'Wait there. Don't move.'

He disappeared. There was a clanking of chains and she understood he was looking for something to weigh her down. Now out of his sight she heaved against the rope with all her might. It cut deep and blood began to seep from her wrists. The pain was almost too much.

Then she remembered that if she died, it would mean Joe would assume sole custody of Fred and Tom.

Now driven to utter, wild, selfless desperation, Ellie pulled and heaved, heedless of the pain. The rope was definitely starting to give...

A sudden shout made her stop. There was a scuffling, and more shouting. Her lips parted in shock.

_There's someone else on the boat._

She recalled the way the boat had rocked violently when they left their moorings. She'd attributed to bumping the dock, but -

_Hardy._

A gunshot went off, shockingly loud in the empty ocean. Ellie jumped and screamed, and with that movement the rope suddenly slipped and came free.

'Alec!' she cried. 'Alec!'

A figure came into view. It was Stoke.

'So!' he said, smoothing down his hair with one hand. 'His name's not Brian after all. You are a tricky thing, aren't you? Just like my Sally-Anne.' He turned back. 'Move. Come on.'

Hardy shuffled along the deck on his knees. He was clutching his left shoulder. Apart from the obvious wound, he also seemed ill and unsteady, badly affected by his fear of water. He looked sorrowfully at Ellie and mouthed an apology. She shook her head.

'Well! How about that. Both detectives caught in my web. This makes things much easier.'

Ellie kept very still, her hands clasped behind her back. As far as Stoke knew, she was still bound. She just had to wait for the perfect moment...

Stoke patted Hardy down. He found his phone and threw it overboard, then stood back.

'It truly is a pleasure to have you here. I was just asking your partner a few questions, but it seems she's a little vague on the details. So. What is your name?'

He spat, 'Alec Hardy.'

'Alec Hardy.' Stoke rolled the name contemplatively across his tongue. 'Alec Hardy – the worst cop in Britain? Truly? Ha – no wonder you seemed familiar to me! Living up to your reputation, too. I can't help but be a little offended that you would prefer him to me,' he shot at Ellie. 

Hardy had his gaze fixed on Ellie. He was trying to communicate something. She signalled back, and they both seemed to be saying the same thing –  _just a little longer. Just keep him talking._

'Speaking of which, there is another mystery I'd like your help with,' Stoke said, levelling the gun on him. 'Sue – or Ellie, I should say – what is your relationship with her? I know you're fucking, but anything more than that is... hazy.'

Hardy looked at Stoke, his eyes burning with hatred. While Stoke was thus engaged, Ellie inched forward.

_Slowly... slowly, so he doesn't notice..._

_'_ Are you her partner? Her romantic partner?'

'No.'

'Friends with benefits?'

Hardy could see her moving closer. He took it upon himself to keep Stoke distracted.

'We had sex for the first time tonight.'

'Oh-ho! Now this is juicy,' Stoke said in delight. 'So what was it? Temptation got to you?'

'No.'

'Are you married?'

'Divorced.'

'And unattached?'

'Yes.'

'So the two of you are unattached, and had sex for the first time tonight.' He rocked back on his heels. 'Well, this is a tragic end to your romance. Do you love her?'

Hardy looked over Stoke's shoulder at Ellie. He inhaled slowly. 'Yes.'

'Ellie here was under the impression you didn't.'

Hardy swallowed. His Adam's apple quivered. 'She's wrong. I love her.' He turned back to Stoke. 'And I'd do anything to keep her safe.'

'Ah-ah-ah. If you're going to bargain for her life, you may as well give up now. You have nothing I want.'

Ellie was almost within striking distance. Just a little more...

'But,' he said, 'I can kill you first so you don't have to watch her drown. What do you say, hm? A fair deal?'

Hardy squared his shoulders. 'Yes.'

'Good. I'll give you the same choice I gave your lady love. Would you like me to shoot you before I throw you overboard, or would you prefer to drown?'

'Shoot me.'

'Have it your way.'

'But before you do,' he said quickly. 'Let me say something to her. Please'

'I suppose I can't begrudge you last words. Not even hangmen were so cruel. Go on, then.'

Hardy looked past Stoke to Ellie. 'You thought,' he said with a sigh, 'that the reason I called you my love was because I was thinking of my wife.' He shook his head. 'You're wrong. I called you that because I think of  _you_  as my wife.'

Stoke watched the exchange with some interest. Ellie's lips parted.

'I don't love Tess,' he said. 'I haven't for a long time. I should have told you. And,' he went on, 'I'm sorry.'

'For what?' Ellie asked, her mouth only barely forming the words.

Now intrigued in what he was going to say, Stoke leaned forward in the pregnant pause that followed. Hardy bowed his head, then he suddenly leapt up like a coiled spring and knocked Stoke off-balance. Ellie rushed forward, and just as he shoved Hardy back and was aiming the gun at his heart, Ellie screamed and knocked the gun out of his hand. A shot went off, deafening all three of them. Ellie grappled hard with Stoke, and, fuelled by a rage too powerful to name, one she had not felt since she'd discovered Joe was Danny's killer, she threw him onto the deck and bashed his head against the railing. He was immediately knocked unconscious.

'Fucking piece of  _shit!'_ she screamed, delivering three swift kicks to his chest. She picked up the gun and hurled it overboard. Seizing on a length of rope, she tied him up.

'Rich fucking snobs and their plastic tubs,' she muttered to herself through tears. 'Don't even know a clove hitch from a reef knot.'

Once he was safely immobilised, Ellie turned to Hardy and fell to her knees next to him, her trembling fingertips brushing his face.

'Alec – Alec, are you all right? Oh God, your arm...'

'Ellie – tell me you're okay -'

They babbled questions, touching and stroking one another, then hugged violently. Hardy buried his face in her hair.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry,' he chanted. 'I love you, I love you, I'm sorry.'

'No – it's my fault – shouldn't have stormed off – gave us away - '

'It was you. All this time - I don't love Tess -'

'Shh, shh... it's all right, I understand, I'm sorry -'

They continued to babble, then broke apart and looked at each other. Ellie couldn't help smiling through her tears. He was safe.

Hardy touched her wrists. 'You're hurt.'

'So are you.' She brushed his shoulder.

He shook his head. 'It's just a graze. Don't worry about me.'

'You're bleeding. Here, let me...'

She eased his jacket off and ripped off some material to bind it.

'How did you find me?' she asked quietly as she worked.

'Ahhh.... I followed you. Saw you with Stoke. Saw the gun.' He hissed and she murmured an apology. 'Called in for help. Jenkinson and the others... they know. They should be sending someone after us.'

'Do they know we're out here?'

'No. But they know about the boat. I suppose they'll figure it out when they see it's gone.'

Ellie tied off the makeshift bandage. Hardy grasped it to keep pressure on it. She got up and ducked inside the cabin.

'Bad news,' she said. 'One of the bullets hit the engines. This tub is going nowhere.' Hardy was sitting propped against the cabin with his eyes closed. He winced at the news. 'I've sent out the distress signal,' she continued. 'They've got a GPS lock on our location. All we have to do is wait.'

He nodded to acknowledge her.

It was freezing cold. 'It's warmer inside the cabin,' she offered.

Hardy shook his head and grunted. 'It's better... better in the open air. Won't be able t'breathe in there.'

Ellie sat down next to him and they huddled closely together. Opening his eyes, Hardy took one of her hands and inspected the abrasions. The blood was already drying. He kissed the wound.

'Well,' he sighed, 'we got him.'

'For drug trafficking and for murder. And attempted murder.' She nudged Stoke's unconscious body with her foot. 'I hope I broke his ribs.'

'Me too.'

Hardy picked up his jacket and threw it over her. She moved so that she could cover both of them with it, and they shivered under it.

Their breaths fogged in the air. The night was clear, and the stars were shining. The boat rocked and dipped, drifting in the waves. Hardy looked unwell.

'You doing okay?' she murmured.

'No. You?'

'No. I can't stop thinking about Sally-Anne. Her body is out here somewhere, under the waves. I don't suppose we'll ever find it.'

'We'll get her justice.'

'I can't believe – you're going to think I'm daft, but I actually kind of liked Stoke. I thought he was... I don't know, he was kind. Twinkly. A little dazzling. I mean, I knew he was a drug dealer, but I never thought for a second that he'd be capable of something like killing his wife. Some judge of character I am, huh?'

She looked like she was about to start crying again.

'I hated you when I first met you,' she went on. 'Really, properly hated you.'

'Ellie...'

'I hated you. You. Someone who only ever looked out for me. Who protected me and stood by me when no-one else would. You, who'd never, ever hurt a child or a woman. I liked Stoke and I fucking married Joe, but I hated you.'

She cried and buried her face in his shoulder. He nudged her with his forehead. 'Shh. Shh, it's okay. It doesn't matter.'

But she couldn't stop. She'd been keeping too much inside for too long, and now it was all pouring out.

'Hey,' Hardy said. 'Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I hated you too.'

She sniffed. 'Yeah?'

'Yeah. Couldn't stand how you were always bloody smiling.'

'I don't do that so much anymore.'

'Yeah. I hate that.'

'I don't hate you, Alec.'

'I know. I love you too.'

She was quiet against him for a moment. 'Why didn't you ever tell me?'

'Because you never asked.'

'Oh. Oh,' she said, laughing weakly. 'So all along it was that simple.'

They heard Stoke stirring. For a moment it looked like he was going to wake, but he simply turned his head and remained insensate.

'It's weird to think this isn't the most fucked up thing that's happened to us,' Ellie remarked, and Hardy had to agree. 

The boat continued to drift on the waves, bobbing to and fro. They stared up at the stars, until at last they saw a distant light and heard the blast of a horn.

'Rescue,' Hardy sighed in relief. 'Can't wait to get off the water.'

'Yeah.' The boat pulled up alongside them and the crew shouted to her. She called to them, then turned to Hardy. 'How about that?' she smiled. 'Both of us went to sea and neither of us drowned.'

*

Jenkinson and the Wessex police arrived. Dirty Brian and the SOCO team went out to the boat to collect evidence while Hardy and Ellie were both patched up. Stoke, too, was treated for injuries, but as soon as he was conscious and well enough recovered, he was taken in for questioning. Hardy and Ellie wanted to question Stoke themselves, but Jenkinson forbade it. Bruised and bandaged, they had to sit outside and wait for the officers to emerge.

Dirty Brian came back with SOCO's preliminary findings. 'We found it,' he said with a smile. 'We got the stash. Traces of substances all around the boat. Forensics confirming pretty much everything our detectives have said. Another team's up in Stoke's hotel room. They've found traces there, too. It'll be a bit tougher to prove definitively that Stoke killed his wife, but we'll work on it.'

He nodded at Hardy and Ellie.

'Well done.'

They nodded stiffly back.

'We could've down without that dramatic little episode on the boat,' Jenkinson sniffed. 'Certainly could've done without you getting shot,' she nodded at Hardy, 'and you breaking our suspect's ribs,' she nodded at Ellie, 'but...' she took a deep breath. 'Yes. Well done.'

The officers questioning Stoke emerged soon after.

'He confessed,' they announced. 'Confessed to Sally-Anne's murder and to the trafficking. We've got him!'

A cheer went up. Several people clapped Hardy and Ellie on the back.

'But,' he said solemnly, and the team quietened. 'We also learned something else.' He grinned. 'We know who won the shag pool!'

Another cheer went up. 'The what?' said Ellie.

The officer went over to a whiteboard and pinned up a sheet of paper. Under the heading of 'SHAG POOL' were written the numbers one to seven – one for every day they were meant to stay in Budmouth. Beneath each day the names of various officers were listed.

'You are fucking  _kidding_ me,' Ellie shouted. 'Really? We almost died! Alec got shot! And you're playing this game?'

Everyone ignored her. They watched with bated breath as the officer picked up a marker and hovered in front of the paper. 'And the winner is...'

They leaned forward.

'Jenkinson!' the officer announced. He circled Day Five with the whiteboard marker. 'Congratulations, ma'am!'

Dirty Brian let out a loud groan. Ellie saw that he had placed his bet on Day One. The rest of the station applauded while Ellie whirled to face her. 'Ma'am! You were in on this?'

Jenkinson tried not to look too pleased. 'This case against Stoke has been dragging on for some time,'she said primly. 'It's important to keep up morale, any way we can.'

The officer handed a wad of cash to Jenkinson. She had collected quite handsomely.

'Well,' she said, clearing her throat. 'Congratulations on taking down Stoke.'

With as much dignity as she could muster, Ellie turned and stalked from the room. 'I'm going to see my sons.'

Hardy followed doubtfully at her heel.

'And congratulations,' Brian called to him, 'on the – ah -'

He grinned and made a circle with his thumb and forefinger, through which he inserted the index finger of his other hand.

Frowning, Hardy detoured past him. He stepped right up to him, looming over him so that Brian had to take a step backwards.

'Just for future reference,' Hardy said. 'Next time – pack the extra large.'

Brian recovered just enough to leave him with the parting quip, 'assuming there  _is_ a next time.'

Hardy turned on his heel and walked backwards out the door. A wry smile played on his face, as if to say,  _just watch._

**Epilogue - Day 6**

There was indeed a next time.

After such a traumatic experience, the two of them needed a day off and they were duly granted a reprieve. Ellie was ecstatic to be reunited with her boys, and they reciprocated her excitement. Upon hearing what had happened, Daisy surprised them by arriving in Broadchurch on the train, whereupon she hugged her father fiercely and congratulated Ellie on breaking another murderer's ribs.

They spent the day together - all five of them - on Ellie's native soil. Hardy wore his suit and black coat, while Ellie wore her trainers and her beloved orange jacket. Hardy's hand sought Ellie's when they stood still, although he released her when the children looked. They ate fish and chips on the sea wall, and Hardy looked around in contentment, as if he shared Ellie's sentiment that it was good to be home.

Daisy was set up on the fold-out, Hardy on the couch. Once all the children were asleep, Hardy slipped upstairs, according to Ellie's instructions, and stole into her bed. They fucked gently and quietly, muffling their moans. Hardy came first, and he dutifully finished Ellie off with his tongue. 

Afterwards they lay curled together, murmuring to each other of the future. They had a long way to go, still, but one thing was certain:

'I love you, Alec.'

'I love you, Ellie.'

 


End file.
